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LOCAL TALES 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES, 



BY 



HENRY D. B. BAILEY. 




FISHKILL LANDING: 

.JOHN W. SPAIGHT, PUBLISHEK. 

FISHKILl. STANDARD OFFICE. 

1874. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1874, by 
HENEY D. B. BAILEY, 

In tJie Office of the Eilmirian of Congr.^ss at "Wasliington. 






INDEX 



Preface, "^ 

POETRY. 
The Months of the Year, 12 



TALES. 

Dominie Van Nist's Courtship, ........ 17 

The Subaltern, ^'5 

Van Horn, 86 

The Squatter's Daughter, 103 

The Haunted Tavern, 119 

Witchcraft in New Hackensack, 132 

The Broken Hearted, 137 

The Highland Farmer vs. The Western Farmer, . 149 

Deacon Jones, the Pioneer, 161 

The Farmer's Daughter, 172 

A Tale of the Revolution, 183 

Farmer Jones, the Discontented Man, 193 

The Mechanic's Wipe, 203 

Farmers Thrifty and Unthrifty, 212 

The Old Farm House, 222 



4 INDEX. 

Page. 

The Ungrateful Father, 232 

The Tailor and the Bachelor, 242 

A Tale of the Early Settlers, 250 

The Mysterious Pack, 259 

Ten Cents a Day, 266 

A Tale of the Great Rebellion, 273 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES. 

Early History of Dutchess County, 283 

The First Churches in Dutchess County, .... 297 

Pougfkeepsie, 307 

Early History of the Town of Fishkill, .... 314 

Historical Sketch of Fishkill Village, 355 

Early Settlers near Fishkill Landing, 373 

A Visit to Fort Hill 380 

The Brick Meeting House, 384 

Pine Plains, 393 

Isaac Van Amburgh, 399 



ESSAYS. 

Civilized and Savage Life Contrasted, 409 

Books the Great Source of Information, .... 421 

Sleep, 424 

Adversity, 426 

Fashion, . 428 

April Days, 430 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page. 

Portrait of the Author, Frontispiece. 

The Van Kleeck House, 24 

The Wharton House, 42 

A Country Scene, 136 

EpiscoPAii Church, Fishkill Vit.lagb, 361 

Reformed Dutch Church, FiSHKiiii. ViiiLAGB, . . . 364 

Verplanck House, Fishkill Landing, ...... 374 

The Agent of Civimzation, 420 



ERRATA. 

On pages 323 and 325, for General Abram Van Wyck, in 
three places, substitute James Van Wyck. 

On page 324, for C. Delevan, substitute Isaac Gilclersleeve. 



PREFACE. 

This volume of local tales and historical sketches is 
the result of many years, and not the product of a 
day. When the author began his literary labors, he 
had no idea that his writings would ever be volumin- 
ous enough to make a book, or of sufficient value to 
be collected in such permanent form. He was in the 
habit of writing a tale or a sketch, and contributing 
the same, either to The Fishkill Standard or the 
PouGHKEEPSiE Telegkaph, in which they were eagerly 
read by the subscribers to those papers. His first 
published tale was "The Tailor and the Bachelor," a 
simple story of life's vicissitudes. This was followed 
at irregular intervals by others, culminating in his 
latest and most pretentious effort, "Dominie Van 
Nist's Courtship." Having a deep love for the olden 
times, he took a great interest in liistorical matters, 
and has brought to light many facts bearing upon the 
early history of Dutchess County, and especially the 



8 PREFACE. 

towns of Fishkill and East Fishkill, which the future 
historian will find of great value. To obtain these 
facts has cost him considerable time and labor, but 
his love for the work incited him to go on without 
expectation of pecuniary reward. A great many his- 
torical facts are woven into Mr. Bailey's tales. In 
fact, these are written with such a degree of natural- 
ness that the only fear is that those vi'ho are not well 
acquainted with the early history of the County, may 
take fiction for fact, and so be unconsciously led astray. 
The chapters devoted to sketches of history, however, 
may be relied upon as correct — at least so far as the 
author has been able to get information. 

Mr. Bailey is a native of this County, having been 
born at Johnsville, in the town of East Fishkill, on 
the 27th of December, 1813. He has resided in the 
County nearly all his life, and is well known to thou- 
sands of people. He did not commence his literary 
labors until in his forty-second year, but since that 
time has been a valued contributor to the local press. 
Tiiis book, which has been the result of so many 
years labor, and written while in the prime of his 
manhood, contains so many facts of historic interest 
that it will be regarded as an authority in many res- 



PREFACE. y 

pects, and will be looked to by future historians as a 
mine from which to gather facts relating to the early- 
days of this section of the County. 

Mr. Bailey did intend writing a history of Dutchess 
County, but his advancing years, and other difficulties 
of a physical nature, have deterred him from the work. 
He has expressed to us his regrets that he did not, ten 
years ago, make a systematic canvass of the County, 
with that end in view. Knowing his industry and 
capabilities, we can but join in the regrets which he 
has expressed. 

The fact is, we are drifting along with scarcely an 
efibrt to preserve from fast approaching oblivion the 
thousands of interesting facts, recollections, and remi- 
niscences of the past, relating to our county, which 
are attainable now, but which in a few years more 
will be utterly lost. How many have passed away 
within the decade just closed, whose memories could 
recall incidents of three and four score years past, 
which would have been of great value to the historian; 
but they are gone, and with them is buried the know- 
ledge they possessed. Our county is rich in material, 
and under a master hand would yield a fund of authen- 
tic historical incidents that would make a book of 



10 PREFACE, 

surpassing interest and value. We hope the historical 
researches begun this year by a gentleman in one of 
our neighboring towns, will result in the pubMcation 
of a full and reliable history of the county. 

The photographic portrait of Mr. Railey, which 
forms a frontispiece, is an admirable one, and will be 
so accepted by all who know him. The engravings 
are mostly from ^'Lossing's Field Booli of the Revo- 
lution," published by the Harper Brothers, NewYork, 
to whose kindness we are indebted for the privilege 
of using the same. They add very much to the 
interest of the book. 

J. W. S. 

Fishkill Standard Office, October, 1874. 



f 



THE MONTHS OF THE YEAR. 



JANUARY. 

Lakes and rivers now are frozen, 

Icy fetters bind in chains ; 
Earth in winter's garb reposing, 

Winter now triumphant reigns. 

FEBRUARY. 

storms are raging, blustering, blowing 
Snow in whirling eddies fly, 

But the days are longer growing — 
Seasons brief, they soon pass by. 



Storm and sunshine intervening. 
Sullen Winter yields at last. 

To his Arctic den retreating, 
Driven by the Southern blast. 



Vernal seasim now approaching. 
Mildly do the zephyrs play. 

Light upon the night encroaching, 
Lengthens out the beams of day- 



Cattle in the pastures grazing, 

Fields are looking fresh and green, 

Man his great Creator praising 
For the balmy days of Spring. 



THE MONTHS OF THE YEAR. 13 



Busy season now arriving, 

Weeds in great profusion grow, 

Farmers in their cornfields driving, 
Strong they wield the spade and hoe. 



Laborers in the fields are toUing 
Through the long and listless day; 

In the West dark clouds are lowering, 
Raindrops wet the new mown hay. 



Early morn the dew drops shining. 

Hanging on the bushes low, 
Lovers in the shades reclining, 

Love does in their bosoms glow. 

SEPTEMBER. 

Orchards noAv their boughs are bending, 
Filled with fruitage rich and rare. 

Choicest blessing thick descending. 
Fills all hearts with thankful prayer. 

OCTOBER. 

Leaves now from the trees are falling, 

Cool and frosty is the morn. 
Farmers to their cribs are hauling 

Golden ears of Indian corn. 

NOVEMBER. 

Autumn hues the landscape blending, 
O'er the face of Nature spread — 

Gloomy, dreary days portending — 
Birds to warmer climes have tied. 

DECEMBER. 

Ah ! the closing year reminds us 
Of the changing scenes of life — 

Friends whose ties were of the kindest, 
Have left this world of woe and strife. 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 



Poiighkeepsie is the shire-town of the wealthy and 
flourishing county of Dutchess. It is situated on the 
east bank of the noble Hudson, equidistant between 
New York and Albany, and contains about twenty-two 
thousand inhabitants. The original name of Pough- 
keepsie was Apokeepsing, an Indian word signifying 
safe harbor. The first settlers were Dutch, who came 
from Long Island about 1700. Boltus Van Kleek built 
the first house within the present limits of the city, in 
1702. Jacobus Vander Bogart, Peter Velie, Johannas 
Van Kleek, and other pioneers, soon erected dwellings 
where the present city is now located, and a highway 
was opened east through the great Nine Partners pat- 
ent, purcliased by Caleb Heathcote and others, May 
27th, 1697. This patent extended from the Hudson 
river to the west line of Connecticut. In 1709 build- 
ing lots were laid out in Poughkeepsie and the Dutch 
Reformed Missionaries had commenced their labors 
there and at Fishkill. The Rev. Peter Vas, of Kings- 
ton, Rev. Gualterus Du Bois, of New York ; Rev. Vin- 
centius Antonides, of Kings county, Long Island, and 



18 DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 

the Rev. Mr. Van Deiisen, of Albany, would in turn 
visit Poughkeepsie and Fishkill and preach to the then 
few inhabitants, in their houses, and administer the 
ordinances of Baptism and the Lord's Supper. In 1716 
the Reformed Dutch Church was organized at Pough- 
keepsie and Fishkill by the Rev. Peter Vas. A lot for 
a church and parsonage at Poughkeej>sie was given by 
Captain Jacobus Vander Bogart, in 1716. This deed 
is recorded in the County Clerk's office, where it may 
be seen at the present day. The cluirch stood in what 
is now known as Market street ; the burying ground 
extended south near to what is now Cannon street, and 
along Main street east for several rods, and west of the 
church to the lot owned by the Court house. West of 
the Court house was the parsonage lot, where the pres- 
ent First Reformed Church is now located. This lot 
then contained several acres of land, and was conjoint- 
ly owned by the congregations of Poughkeepsie and 
Fishkill, and remained so until the separation of the 
two churches, which took place in 1772. Since the 
separation, great alterations have taken place on the 
parsonage lot. The old parsonage has long since been 
demolished and a new one erected. The first church, 
which was erected in 1718, was taken down in 1782 
and a new one erected on the opposite side of the street, 
near the Poughkeepsie Hotel, where the old burying 
ground is still to be seen. In 1822 they abandoned 
that ground and built a church on the parsonage lot. 
This church was destroyed by fire in 1857, when the 
present noble structure was erected on the same site. 

As we have said, the parsonage formerly contained 
several acres of land, but portions of it have been sold 



DOMINIE VAN NISt's COURTSHIP. 19 

at difterent times, the last in 1848. A number of lots 
were then sold to Matthew Vassar, the money, which 
amounted to some $8000, was given to the Second 
Church, which had just been erected. We will now 
attempt to give the architecture of the first church, 
which, in 1718, stood in what is now known as Market 
street. The material of which the church was built 
was stone, the height of the walls was two stories, and 
it was covered with a gambrel roof. A tower went up 
in front of the church, rising above the apex of the roof 
a moderate distance, and there the bell was suspended, 
and over the same was a small tapering spire, and 
surmounting that was the rooster. There was but one 
entrance and that was in the tower, which fronted Main 
street. Passing through the entrance to the interior, 
two aisles led the way through the church, flanked 
with high backed pews on either side. The pulpit was 
reached by a high flight of stairs from one of the aisles, 
and it was shaped like a wineglass. Over it was the 
sounding board, fastened securely to the rear walls of 
the church. An arch spanned the building, and gal- 
leries extended all around the church, excepting the 
rear, which was supported by heavy columns. The 
window lights were very small, set in heavy sash frames. 
This was the first church erected in the county. It is 
about one hundred and fifty-six years since the corner 
stone was laid. 

From 1716 until 1731 the congregations of Pough- 
keepsie and Fishkill had no settled minister 5 they 
were too feeble to maintain one, for the country was as 
yet a wnlderness. Dark tangled forests lined the banks 
of the Hudson, extending east over the country. Here 



20 DOMi>:iE VAN nist's courtship. 

and there the pioneer and squatter had made an open- 
ing, and erected log huts for a shelter, andtlie traveler 
in passing through the country then for miles nothing 
would greet his eye but dreary wastes, and occasional- 
ly a wolf or bear would emerge from some thicket, 
alarmed at the unusual noise occasioned by the travel- 
er's horse. Although the county had been purchased 
by the patentees from the Aborigines for some twenty- 
five years, yet Indian tribes roved through the coun- 
try, living by the chase. Their villages yet existed 
in Fishkill Hook and along the Wappingers Creek. 
After 1720, settlements increased rapidly, but Mission- 
aries from New York, Kingston (then called Esopus) and 
Albany supplied the church at Poughkeepsie and the 
station at Fislikill until 1731. That year the congre- 
gation at Fishkill had erected a substantial stone church 
and then an effort was made by the two congregations 
to raise money sufficient to support a minister. A com- 
mittee, one from each congregation, was appointed. 
Captain Jacobus Vander Bogart, of Pouglikeepsie, and 
Abram Brinckerhoff, of Fishkill, visited the families in 
their respective congregations, and after ascertaining 
what salary each member of the congregation would 
give, reported at the church in Poughkeepsie. The 
sum was found sufficient to warrant the maintenance 
of a clergyman. The two congregations had just com- 
pleted their parsonage in Poughkeepsie, which stood 
in the rear of the present one, located on the brow of 
the hill, on the south side of Main street, descending 
to the river. It was an airy, comfortable structure, 
sided and roofed with red cedar, and inclosed with a 
substantial fence. Accordingly a call was made out 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 21 

and accepted by the Rev. Cornelius Van Schie, who 
had been educated in Holhind. He was installed in 
office by the Rev. Gualterns Du Bois, of the city of New 
York, October 4tli, 173 1. Mr. Van Seine's salary was 
five hundred gilders a year and fire wood, which cost 
but little, except the labor of cutting and hauling, 
which was done by the congregation. Mr. Van Schie's 
pastorate contiiuied five years, when he was released 
from his charge and removed to Alban3^ The second 
pastor was the Rev. Benjamin Meynema, who also was 
educated in Holland. His pastorate commenced in 
1745 and continued until 1755, when he resigned his 
charge. During his ministry he lost his wife, who was 
buried in the church yard at Fishkill, and September 
9th, 1761, he died, and at his request he was biu'ied 
beside his wife, where their tombstones can be seen at 
the present day with epitaphs in the Low Dutch lan- 
guage. The third pastor was the Rev. Jacobus Van- 
nist, who was educated in this country. He was only 
twenty-four years old when he accepted the call to be- 
come pastor of the congregations of Poughkeepsie and 
Fishkill ; Mr. Vannist having just completed his stud- 
ies, and with little or no experience in preaching the 
Holy Gospel and imparting spiritual consolation to his 
flock, which then extended all over the western portion 
of the county, then called Poughkeepsie and Fishkill 
precincts. When Mr. Vannist an-ived at Poughkeep- 
sie, in the summer of 1758, he w^as cordially received 
by his congregation, and his time was occupied in vis- 
iting his parishoners and preaching at Poughkeepsie 
and Fishkill on alternate Sal^baths. Mr. Vannist was 
umunrried, and having no use for the parsonage, he 



22 DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 

vvaiited to get a permanent place to board at some pri- 
vate house, not wishing to board at a Hotel, deeming 
it an unsuitable place for a minister. 

The Van Kleek House was then the most conspicu- 
ous Hotel in the count3^ The Court House had just 
been erected, and Poughkeepsie being the county seat, 
business centered there. Judges, lawyers and learned 
men, merchants, artisans, &c., located at Poughkeepsie. 
One of the most prominent men that lived there was 
Paul Schank, who engaged in the mercantile business. 
His customers came from far and near, north to vvluit 
was then known as the Little Nine Partners, east to 
the Connecticut line, and south as far as New Hacken- 
sack and Beekman, which then contained a few settlers. 
The sturdy pioneers could be seen riding on horseback, 
with their frows seated on a pillion behind, trudging 
through Main street to Paul's store, the Christian name 
which his neighbors always called liim by. (Others 
again in their wagons would be wending tlieir way to 
Paul's store to purchase articles of merchandise which 
the pioneers really needed. Paul owned several acres 
of land on the south side of ]\Iain street, east of the 
Dutch Church, adjoining the burying ground, where 
he had built him a house and store and was doing a 
thriving business. Paul's lot covered a part of what 
is now known as Cannon street, and extended east 
along Main street, opposite to where the Morgan House 
is now located. His family consisted of his wife, two 
sons, and his daughter Rebekah, and a number of 
negro slaves, for then slavery existed throughout the 
country. 

In those days traveling through the country was 



do:minie van nist's courtship. 23 

slow and difticult. Xew York city could be reached 
from the river by sloops, which sometimes woidd con- 
sume a fortnight going to and from Poughkeepsie. 
Paul only went to New York to purchase goods once 
or twice a year, and then he would have to take his 
bed and provisions with hini, for the Captains of sloops 
did not supply their passengers with berths and board 
in those days. Paul, as soon as he had purchased what 
goods he thought he needed, would have them all cart- 
ed to the sloop, which then lay at Coenties slip, for 
the city then lay all on the east side of the Island, and 
contained only thirteen thousand inhabitants. When 
the hour arrived for the Captain to &ail, Paul had his 
business all perfected, and if nothing muisual occurred, 
and with favorable wind and weather, they would 
arrive at Poughkeepsie the second or third day after 
leaving New York. 

In 1758, when Dominie Vannist was pastor of the 
two congregations at Poughkeepsie and Fishkill, the 
now populous and beautiful city of Poughkeepsie made 
but a sorry appearance. On the south side of ]\Iain 
street, east of the Dutch Church and burying ground, 
was the residence of Paul Schank ; his store stood ad- 
jacent the burying ground. East of his residence was 
the school-house, a small building painted red. West 
of the Dutch Church was the Court House, a stone 
structure which was destroyed by fire in the Revolu- 
tion. The next building west of the Court House was 
the Dutch Parsonage, and along the sloping hillsides 
to the river there were some twenty houses. The Van 
Kleek house, a substantial stone structure, was the 
most prominent Hotel, and under the eaves the walls 



24 



DOMINIE VAN NIST'S COURTSHIP. 



were pierced with loopholes for musketry. In 1777 
this Hotel was used as a State house and the Legisla- 
ture convened there. George Clinton was then gover- 
nor of the State, and Pierre Van Cortlandt lieutenant 
governor. In 1797 the Poughkeepsie Hotel was built, 
and then the Van Kleek House was abandoned as a 
public house, and finally it got in possession of Matthew 
Vassar, who demolished the building in 18:35. On the 




Van Kleek House, Poughkeepsie. 

north side of jVIain street, east of where the Poughkeep- 
sie Hotel is now located, there were a few houses and 
stores, and west of the Hotel were a few lawyers' 
offices, and you have all there was of Poughkeepsie in 
1758. One of the most prominent lawyers then was 
Bartholomew Crannell, a gentleman of note as an able 
counsellor and eloquent advocate. John H. Livingston, 
one of the ablest dominies of the Reformed Dutch 
Church, who was born at Poughkeepsie in 1746, com- 



DOMINIE VAN NLSt's COURTSHIP. 25 

menced reading law in his office in the Autumn of 1762, 
and at the close of 1764, his health being a good deal 
impaired, in consequence of close application to read- 
ing and writing, he left Mr. Crannell's office. After 
that he experienced a change of heart, and connected 
himself with the Dutch Church, and his health was 
in a measure recovered. He became impressed that he 
was called to preach the Gospel, and in May, 1766, he 
sailed for Europe, studied in the University of Utrecht, 
and returned in September, 1770, and became pastor 
of one of the Collegiate Churches in the city of New 
York. 

Dominie Vannist had as yet no permanent place to 
board ; he had lived among his parishioners, preaching 
at intervals in New Hackensack and Hopewell, which 
now had become Missionary stations. His labors were 
now very arduous, and it was necessary that he should 
have some place where he could spend more time in 
his study. Often times he had been subjected to great 
inconvenience in preparing his sermons, and Paul 
Schank politely invited him to come and board at his 
house, which offer the dominie gladly accepted. Paul's 
dwelling was a stone structure, with low walls and 
steep roof. The entrance from the front door was 
through a box entry, with a stairs, which led to the 
garret. This entry communicated with the parlor, 
through a large door, and adjoining this was the sitting 
room. Two bedrooms, which were separated by a par- 
tition from the sitting room, completed the first floor, 
excepting the kitchen, which projected from the east 
end of the main building, and was set apart for the 
negroes. A large fire place occupied one side of the 



26 DOMINIE VAN NIST'S COURTSHIP. 

kitchen, with jambs of sufficient height to admit a tall 
man. Adjacent one of the jambs was a huge oven 
embedded in the walls, where the bread for the family 
was baked. In those days they had no knowledge of 
stoves, and their chimneys were so wide that one could 
drive through them with a cart and horses, with fire- 
places of such immense wings that the consMm})tion of 
wood was enormous. Two iron bars were fastened in 
the fireplace near the mouth of the chimney ; across 
these bars another one was laid, which held the tram- 
mels where the pots and kettles were suspended over 
the fire, in which the cooking was done. 

But as yet the country was comparatively a wilder- 
ness, and the forests were in close proximity to every 
settler's cabin. The negro then was the only laborer, 
and he was owned by the Dutch pioneer, and a half 
a score or less were in every Dutch farm house. They 
helped clear the forests and enclose and cultivate their 
farms. When Dominie Vannist came to Paul's to 
board, he gave him the privilege to select which room 
he wished to occupy. He selected one of the bedrooms 
adjoining the sitting room, and found it very conveni- 
ent. Mrs. Schank had ordered it thoroughly cleaned. 
Fillis and Juda were set to work scouring the floors 
and the huge beams over head, for there were no walls 
over head, nor carpets on the floors, in the Dutch 
liouses in those days. Rebekah was' busily engaged 
arranging the furniture her fatlier had recently purchas- 
ed for Mr. Vannist's room. When his room was ready, 
he took possession, and was highly pleased with his 
new quarters, for Rebekah and her mother had prevail- 
ed on her father to get some nice furniture for his room 



DOMINIE VAN NISt's COURTSHIP. 27 

when be went to New York to buy goods. Paul was 
willhig to comply witb tbeir request, for he thought a 
great deal of liis dominie, and when in New York he 
purchased a book case, writing desk, and rocking chair, 
and they were luxuries in those days. The fireplace in 
Mr. Vannist's room was located in a corner, and occu- 
pied less room than usual, and he was furnished w ith 
tongs, shovel and bellows, and Paul had instructed San- 
00 to fetch no wood but hickory in his room. Mr. 
Vannist having now a place to study prepared liis sei- 
mons with tiie greatest care. The Dutch language 
was then the only one used in the Dutch churches, in 
fact it was almost the oidy language used in the coun- 
ty, especially in the western portion. Mr. Vannist 
always preached in the Dutch language, and his con- 
gregation used none other, but he understood both the 
Dutch and English languages, and could speak them 
fluently, but he always wrote his sermons in Dutch. 
Mr. Vannist had now become a popular preacher, and 
on every alternate Sabbath w^hen he preached atPough- 
keepsie, the people would come north from beyond 
Hyde Paik, east to the center of the county, and south 
from New Hackensack and Beekman. Pioneers, in 
their large lumber wagons, seated on chairs taken from 
their houses, and their negro slaves squatted on bun- 
dles of straw" in the rear of the wagon ; young men on 
horseback, with their sweethearts behind seated on a 
pillion, clinging to their lovers, could be seen coming 
through Main street to the Dutch cliurch. Wagons 
and horses w^ould liue Main street on either side beyond 
the churchyard to where Paul's store was located, dur- 
ing the time of service. Although there was occasion- 



2S DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 

ally preaching in Poughkeepsie then by the Rev. Sam- 
uel Seebury, an Episcopalian minister, they had not as 
yet erected a house of worship. Once in a month, per- 
haps, he would preach in the Court House. The in- 
terior of the Dutch church at Poughkeepsie then, when 
Mr. Vannist held forth, presented an impressive scene. 
He was only twenty-four years of age, tall, his height 
was six feet two inches, his appearance in the pulpit 
was prepossessing in the extreme. For one so young, 
he was a fervent and eloquent speaker, and the pathetic 
appeals that fell from his lips when in the pulpit, 
and his winning manners among his people, all contri- 
buted to his popularity. Paul and Rebekah led the 
singing in Dutch, and the congregation joining, pre- 
sented a striking contrast from the mode of worship at 
the present day. The sexton's labors in those days 
were not arduous, and as no fires were used in chur- 
ches, there was but little to do. On Saturday preceed- 
ing the Sabbath that Mr. Yannist was to preach in 
Poughkeepsie, Paul would send Sanco to the church, 
who would open it and sweep the aisles and sand the 
floor, and then Paul would see if anything was wanting 
for the church. If a broom or sand was wanting, lie 
furnished those items from his store. 

Paul and his wife were two of the leading members 
of the church, having united during the ministry of the 
Rev. Benjamin Meynema, and they had the supervision 
of the church and parsonage. Rebekah was their only 
daughter, and when Dominie Vannist came there to 
board, she was twenty years of age, and she was the 
idol of her parents. Modest and unassuming in her 
manners, her sweetness of disposition, filial aflection, 



DOMINIE VAN NISt's COURTSHIP. 29 

and love of domestic life, won tlie admiration of all 
who knew lier. Dt)minie Vannist's room was on the 
south side of Paul's house, which was entirely secluded. 
The city of Poughkeepsie had not extended outside of 
Main street ; not a habitation could be seen from his 
window, and w^hen he rested from his studies, nothing 
greeted his eye beyond Paul's little farm, but a monot- 
onous view of forest scenery. 

A century and a quarter ago, the time to which we 
refer, education was confined to a few. A large class 
of the inhabitants could not read nor write; schools 
and books were scarce. The board of Supervisors, 
which then sat in Poughkeepsie, some of them in sign- 
ing documents had to make their marks. No newspa- 
pers were printed in t\ie county until after the Revolu- 
tion. The first was printed in Poughkeepsie in 17S5. 
Nicholas Power was editor. The education of women 
was thought to be of little consequence, and but a few 
w^ere instructed beyond reading and writing. Many 
could not write their names. Rebekah's opportunities 
were as good as the times would admit ; she was per- 
fectly versed in Dutch wn-iting and reading, and often 
she would spend hours with the Dominie in his room, 
trying her skill with her pen and reading aloud to him 
from books taken from his library. Her mother often 
remonstrated with her for spending so much time in 
his room. "Why, Rebekah," she would say, "you will 
hinder him from studying ; he will not be prepared on 
Sunday," and one day at dinner she mentioned to Mr. 
Vannist that she was afraid that Rebekah was trespass- 
ing on time which he wished to devote to study, 
and if that was the case, she would not allow her to 



30 DOMINIE VAX NISt's COURTSHIP. 

visit his room so frequently. Mr. Vannist replied that 
Rebekah did not often interfere, and when he wished 
to be alone in his room, Rebekah immediately left. 
But Rebekali's visits continued, and sometimes were 
prolonged, and the Dominie in his leisure hours would 
instruct her in various branches — reading, writing, and 
arithmetic, and her improvement was rapid, and it 
pleased him to see her so apt a scholar. Often when 
Mr. Vannist had hours of recreation, he would ask 
Rebekah to take a walk through the village and call 
on some of his congregation. Sometimes they would 
stroll to the river and take a sail to the opposite side, 
and there sit on the river's bank, secluded and alone. 
Rebekah would assist in rowing the boat. Again they 
would take a walk to where the Morgan House is now, 
which then was an open field, and wend their way to 
the woods near by, gathering wild flowers ; and then 
they would take a circuitous route home, crossing 
ravines ; anon they would cross lots, until they arrived 
on Main street, and on their way home they would 
stop at her father's store, who was pleased to see his 
Dominie pay so much attention to his daughter, per- 
haps thinking that it would be the forerunner of a 
closer union that could only be severed by death. 

The communion season was now approaching, and 
Mr. Vannist was making preparations for that solemn 
event. He had held his last commemorative service at 
his church in Fishkill, and now it was his turn to ad- 
minister the sacraments at Poughkeepsie, and on the 
Sabbath preceeding the communion he invited those 
who wished to connect themselves with the church of 
Christ to meet him and the elders of the church at the 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COUETSHIP. 31 

house of Mr. Paul Schank, at two o'clock. The pre- 
paratory lecture was to commence at three o'clock, and 
he smcerely hoped that there would be some that 
would feel the necessity of a preparation for death, as 
life is so uncertain. Among the number that present- 
ed themselves to unite with the church, was Rebekah 
Schank. Oh, how it gladdened the hearts of her par- 
ents when their daughter made a public profession of 
religion, when she renounced the world and gave her 
heart to God, and the joy of her parents on that 
Sabbath noon, when they were all seated around that 
sacramental table to commemorate the Saviour's dying 
love, can better be imagined than described. Mr. Van- 
nist was encouraged, for his labors at Poughkeepsie and 
Fishkill had been blest during the brief time he had 
been with this people. Besides preaching alternate 
Sabbaths at Poughkeepsie and Fishkill, he had stations 
at New Hackensack and Hopewell, and as the county 
was becoming more thickly populated, his congrega- 
tions multiplied and their numbers increased. Mr. 
Vannist now confined himself more closely to his room, 
and witli close application to study left little time for 
leisure. He often had to ride miles to visit the sick 
and the afflicted, and with no way of travehng but on 
horseback, for the country would not admit of wheel 
vehicles, for the by-roads were so rough and uneven 
that if the traveler had to deviate from the main road, 
fallen trees would often obstruct his passage, and on 
horseback this difficulty could be avoided by finding an 
opening through the woods of sufficient width for his 
horse to pass through. Mr. Vannist often met with 
this difficulty, and he always could find a way in which 



32 DOMINIE VAN NISt's COURTSHIP. 

to avoid sunken holes and fallen trees. The pioneers, 
when they traveled in their lumber wagons, took their 
axes with them, and in travehng through the woods, if 
they met with any obstruction caused by trees falhng 
across the road, which had blown down by violent 
storms of wind, they would fall to work with their axes 
and remove the obstruction, but this could be avoided 
by travehng on horseback ; and Mr. Vannist always 
traveled over his parish on horseback, then extending 
over a circuit of some twenty miles. 

A strong attachment now existed between Mr. Van- 
nist and Rebekah, and it created a great deal of gossip 
in the village. The matrons would meet at each oth- 
er's houses and talk the matter over, wondering if their 
Dominie would marry Rebekah Schank. The young 
ladies, too, would collect together and tell how they 
had seen them at different times walk out, engaged in 
close conversation. Such circumstances strengthened 
their hehef that they would soon be married. ''But 
then," said Mrs. L., ''he is such a fine young minister, 
so dignified, so engaging in his maimers, one cannot 
but help admire him." "Yes," said Miss V., "and Re- 
bekah Schank is a lucky girl." Rebekah was spotless 
to a fault, and she now might be described as a model 
of beauty and lovehness. Her figure was tall and 
graceful, her hair a light auburn, soft and lustrous, 
which flowed in silken ringlets over her neck and shoul- 
ders ; her ardent love for the church and her devotion 
to religious duties, particularly in the prayer meeting, ' 
all conspired to elevate her in the esteem of those who 
were the followers of the meek and lowly Saviour. 
On the week preceeding the Sabbath that Mr. Van- 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 33 

nist was to preach at Fishkill, he invited Rebekah to 
accompany him, which invitation she readily accepted. 
As provender was very cheap in those days, Paul vol- 
unteered to keep the Dominie's horse gratis. He sup- 
plied him with hay and meal, and whatever else he 
wished. Sanco was ordered to give the Dominie's 
horse a thorough brushing on the morning they were 
to set out for Fishkill, and Paul saddled his horse and 
fastened a pilhon on behind, and then led him to the 
front of the house in Main street, and after the Domi- 
nie helping Rebekah on the pillion, he placed himself 
in the saddle, and then bidding her parents good-bye, 
they moved slowly out of the village on their way to 
Fishkill. Their course lay through New Hackensack. 
It was the latter part of June, and the country wore a 
beautiful aspect, for nature was decking herself in her 
most brilliant garments. The purple willows had on 
their full dress, and the wild ivy was clambering the 
forest trees, whose giant arms stretched across the high- 
way and often interlocking each other, shutting out the 
sun's rays, presenting a scene wild and picturesque. 
Again the sunbeams would be streaming through every 
crevice, and pouring a flood of light through interven- 
ing forests ; anon they would emerge into open fields, 
where the Dutch pioneers had erected substantial 
dwelling houses and bams, and many of them had their 
farms enclosed, and cattle and sheep were feeding in 
luxuriant pastures that lay on either side of the high- 
way where they passed. Arriving at New Hackensack, 
they concluded to stop and refresh themselves and 
horse, and alighted at Mr.Van Benschoten's, who was a 
large landholder. He had just returned from the field 



34 DOMIXIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 

with his negro slaves, where he had been superintend- 
ing the w^ork. He ordered Pompey to take the Domi- 
nie's horse and put liim in the stabh^ and give him a 
half skipple of wheat, (skipple is a Dutch measure con- 
taining three pecks.) Mr. Van Benschoten politely- 
invited Mr. Vannist and Rebekah into the house, and 
after the customary salutations and inquiring tlie news 
at Poughkeepsie, Mrs. Van Benschoten set to work 
preparing dinner for their guests. Mr. Vannist had 
frequently stopped at ]\Ir. Van Bens(ihoten's when on 
his way to Fishkill to preach, and he knew the hos- 
pitality that he always received at his house, and 
when he lectured at New Hackensack, he often made 
his home there. A good substantial dinner was pre- 
pared, and the Dommie and Rebekah, with the famih^, 
were soon seated at the table, and after Mr. Vannist 
inxoking the divine blessing, they partook of the 
bountiful supply that had been set before them. 

After dinner, Mr. Vannist and Rebekali remained 
one hour at Mr. Van Benschoten's, who were mem- 
bers of his church. He gave a short exhortation 
before leaving, to his ftimily, who had gathered in the 
room, including the negro slaves, and then Mr. Vannist 
said that he would be obliged to leave, as he wished 
to reach Col. John Brinckerhoff's before night. Pom- 
pey was ordered to saddle his horse and lead him to 
the house, and then taking leave of Mr. and Mrs. Van 
Benschoten, thanking them for their kindness, thej^ 
left for Col. John BrinckerhofPs. The day was wear- 
ing away, and as they ascended the high rolling ridge 
now known as Mt. Hope, a half mile south of ]\Iyers' 
Corners, the scenery was of more than ordinary 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COUETSHIP. 35 

beauty. Tlie sun was receding to the western hori- 
zon, and the song birds were warbling on the tree 
tops, making the air ring with their melody. The 
valleys on the east of the Hudson w^as the foreground 
of the picture ; in the centre, like a beautiful pano- 
rama, lay the noble river ; beyond, for some twenty 
miles, the valleys extended to the base of the Shaw- 
angnnk mountains, whose blue tops reached the fur- 
therest limits of the landscape. The checkered shad- 
ows of the declining sun reflected over the scene. 
Conversation had lagged for some time, and Rebekah, 
who was getting fatigued with her journey, lay half 
reclining on his shoulder. The day was moderately 
warm, and the balmy breezes were sifting her cluster- 
ing curls, occasionally sweeping his face, who made 
no effort to push them aside. But they jogged slow- 
ly along, and before sunset they reached Col. John 
BrinckerhofFs, now tlie residence of Alfred White. 
The house is the same which Col. Brinckerhoft" then 
occupied. The Colonel was expecting Dominie Van- 
nist, as it was the Sabbath when he was to preach at 
Fishkill, and he often remained with him, particularly 
when night overtook him before reaching Fishkill 
Village. The Colonel told Caesar to take his horse, 
and Mr. Vannist and Rebekah were ushered into the 
parlor, where Rebekah was introduced to Mrs. Brinck- 
erhoft' and family, who soon spread aj bountiful table, 
knowing that Rel^ekah must be tired traveling on 
horseback, exposed to a warm sun through the day. 
Soon they w^ere all seated at the table, and after Mr. 
Vannist asking the blessing, their wants were sup- 
plied and the kind attention that Rebekah received at 



36 DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 

Col. Brinckerhort's made her feel very much at home. 
They spent a very pleasant evening with the Col- 
onel and fiimily. After tea they all took a walk to 
the large creek, which was but a little way from the 
house, and spent an hour sailing down the stream 
which broke through the forests that lined its banks. 
The silvery moonbeams reflected over the water at the 
splash of the oars, which were handled dexterously by 
Mr. Vannist. Martha Jane Brinckerhoff and Rebekah, 
who accompanied Mr. Vannist in the boat, admired 
his skill in gliding it so swiftly over the water. 

Returning home after such pleasant recreation, 
which was very much enjoyed by Rebekah and 
Martha Jane, the time for retiring soon arrived. Col. 
Brinckerhoff gathered his family and slaves together 
in the parlor, and then the Dominie opened the large 
Dutch Bible, which lay on the stand, and read the 
twenty-third Psalm, and after making a few remarks 
on the Psalmist, his faith in God, and that He would 
sustain him when passing through the dark valley of 
the shadow of death, fearing no evil, for his rod and 
staff they comforted him, so all who put trust in the 
Saviour could feel as David did when he penned this 
Psalm, and death would present to us no terrors, if we 
placed our firm reliance in Him who died to save such 
sinners as we are. He then closed with prayer ; and 
all retired for the night. Mr. Vannist, after retiring 
to his room, seated hhnself in his chair for some time 
in deep meditation. He at length opened his satchel, 
which he always carried with him, and taking his 
manuscript out, commenced examining his sermon, 
which he had to deliver to his congregation at Fish- 



DOMINIE VAN NISt's COURTSHIP. 37 

kill on the morrow. In looking over it he thought 
if he had the time he could improve it. He had spent 
hours with Rebekah, which he thought he ought to 
have devoted to his studies, and he felt that he had 
neglected his duty to his God and to his people. He 
was an embassador of Christ, and his mission was to 
labor for the salvation of his gnilty fellow men, but, 
thought he, have I not been instrumental in bringing 
many to the Saviour; has not my ministry been suc- 
cessful, and through the instrumentality of my preach- 
ing have not souls been converted ! Such thoughts 
seemed to thrill the very fibres of his soul, and he felt 
encouraged to work with more zeal than ever. Hastily 
looking over his manuscript and making some altera- 
tions, he laid it aside, and after closet devotions, he 
sought to refresh himself with sleep, but this was 
denied him. He was fatigued with his day's journey, 
yet he had no disposition to sleep. His God, his labors 
on the Sabbath, and the object of his aifections, came 
rushing through his mind. He had not as yet offered 
her his hand and heart, but the love that he cherished 
for her penetrated his inmost soul, and no finite love 
could compare with that for his beloved Eebekah. 

The nights in the months of June are the shortest 
of the year, and Mr. Vannist had scarce got asleep ere 
the east was again streaked with the broad crimson of 
the dawn, and over the blazing hills the morning sun 
was again pouring his rays upon a regenerated world, 
and it was not seven o'clock when he was awakened 
by a loud rap at his door, and a voice from without 
saying that breakfast wovdd be ready in a quarter of 
an hour. Mr. Vannist hastily commenced dressing 



38 DOMINIE VAN NIST'S COURTSHIP. 

himself, and in less time than specified his toilet was 
all adjusted, and he then made his appearance in the 
parlor, where the Colonel and his family were sitting. 
The Colonel then invited his guests to hreakfast, and 
Rebekah was ushered into tlie room by Martha Jane, 
who seated her at the table by the side of Mr. Vannist. 
After giving thanks to the giver of all good for his 
protecting care through the night and refreshing sleep, 
the Dominie gave each one a verse in Scripture to 
repeat in turn, while they were at breakfast, com- 
mencing with himself. His was Psalms, forty-second 
chaptei', fifth verse, "Why art thou cast down, O my 
soul, and why art thou disquieted in me; hope thou 
in God, for I shall yet praise him for the help of his 
countenance." Col. BrinckerhofF's turn came next, 
and the Dominie asked him if he could think of a pas- 
sage of Scripture, who said yes: "If any man serve 
me, let him follow me, and where I am there shall also 
my servant be. If any man serve me, him will my 
Father honor." Mrs. Brinckerhoft' was asked next if 
she could think of a passage of Scripture, who replied 
in the affirmative, and hers was very appropriate; and 
then he asked Martha Jane if she could repeat a verse, 
who said, "Be kindly aftectioned one to another, 
with brotherly love; in honor preferring one another." 
And last of all he asked Rebekah if she knew a passage, 
who replied, "And said, For this cause shall a man leave 
father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and 
they twain shall be one flesh. What, therefore, God 
hath joined together, let not man ]iut asunder." What 
Mr. Vannist's thoughts were after hearing this passage 
of Scripture from Rebekah, was known only to him- 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 39 

self. Breakfast being over, the Colonel called in his 
domestics, and then Mr. Vannist read a chapter from 
the Gospel of St. Matthew, and closed with prayer. 
He then informed the Colonel that he would like to 
have his horse saddled, for it was time for him to leave 
for Fishkill. His request was complied with, and he 
then set out for Fishkill Village, leaving Rebekah at 
Col. Brinckerhoff's, who was to follow immediately 
with his family, with Rebekah in his wagon. 

Mr. Vannist soon arrived at Fishkill, and stopped at 
Stephen Purdy's, who then lived on the opposite side 
of the street from where the National Bank is now 
located. The house was demolished in 1836, by Nelson 
Bnrrough, who then owned the premises, and built 
the present mansion, now (1874) owned by 0. H. 
Barnes. Mr. Purdy took charge of tlie Dominie's 
horse, and in a little while the sound of the bell was 
reverberating through the valleys, calling the people 
to the house of God, and when Mr. Vannist arrived at 
the church he found a large congregation assembled, 
who had come from New Hackensack, Hopewell, 
Fishkill Plains, Fishkill Landing, and the Highlands, 
fining the main body of the church. Rebekah was 
seated in Col. BrinckerhofF's pew with Martha Jane. 
Mr. Vannist took his text in St. Matthew's Gospel, 
twenty-fifth chapter, last verse, "And these shall go 
away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous 
into life eternal." After his introductory remarks, he 
proceeded to review the condition of the two classes, 
the righteous and the wicked, in the world to come, 
that punishment hereafter was eternal, and he exhorted 
all the impenitent to make their peace with God, and 



40 DOMINIE VAN NIST'S COURTSHIP. 

if they put off the time until a more coiivenieut sensoii, 
that season may never come, but the righteous would 
attain evedasting fehcity, and all at last would be 
numbered among his Saints in glory everlasting. The 
speaker produced a profound impression on his hear- 
ers, and the vivid pictures that he drew of the two 
classes at the close of" his sermon seemed to penetrate 
every heart. After the services were concluded, Mr. 
Vannist stated to his congregation that he would 
preach at either New Hackensack or Hopewell before 
he returned to Poughkeepsie, if any member of the 
church had a convenient place for him to hold service, 
and as he saw a goodly number of his congregation 
from there present, he would appoint preaching if any 
one would say where the service might be held. Peter 
Monfort, from Fislikill PLiins, arose and said that he 
could preach in his bmn. It was the warm season of 
the. year, and he had not yet commenced haying; his 
barn being empty, tliere would be ample room to 
accommodate all that would be present. This offer 
was accepted, and then Mr. Vannist said that he would 
preach in Mr. Monfort's barn on Tuesday of that week," 
services to commence at 10 o'clock a. m. He then 
remarked that if any Avished or was willing to hold 
a prayer meeting at their house that evening, they 
could signify by rising. Johannas Swart arose and 
said that he could a})point a prayer meeting at his 
house. The Dominie then said that a meeting for 
prayers would be held at the house of Johannas Swart 
that evening, and then dismissed the congregation. 

In those days there was preaching only once on the 
Sabbath ; the country was too sparsely settled to 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 41 

collect a congregation more than once, and the village 
of Fishkill then contained so few inhabitants that only 
a small number lived in convenient distance even to 
attend prayer meeting. Mr. Vannist and Rebekah 
spent tlie remainder of the Sabbath with Stephen 
Purdy, and in the evening, with Mr. Purdy and flimily, 
they attended the prayer meeting at Mr. Swart's. The 
house is now the residence of John P. Green, and has 
been rebuilt several times. A little band of Christians 
had assembled to spend an hour in prayer. Mr. Van- 
nist opened the Bible, which had been laid on a stand 
for the occasion, and then read a chapter in Revelations 
and offered a brief prayer, and then said that the meet- 
ing was open for prayer and remarks. An hour was 
spent profitably in singing and praying, and then Mr. 
Vannist closed the meeting, and he and Rebekah 
remained over night with Mr. Swart. On Monday 
they spent the day calling on his people in the village, 
and dining at Robert R. Brett's, now the residence of 
Mrs. John C. Van Wyck. The house, which was then 
a stone structure, was demolished in 1819 by Obadiah 
Bowne, who then owned the premises, and built the 
present beautiful edifice. The close of the day Mr. 
Vannist and Rebekah arrived at Cornelius Van Wyck's, 
now the residence of Sidney E. Van Wyck, of Revolu- 
tionary fame, known in Cooper's novels as the Wharton 
House. The architecture of this house is the same as 
it was originally, covered with scollop shingles, which 
were taken off about 1805 by the grandfather of the 
present owner. They remained over night with Mr. 
Van Wyck, whose family spared no pains to make it 
pleasant for them. Rebekah was entertained by Mrs. 



42 DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 

Van Wyck and daughters, who accompanied her 
through their yards and garden. It was her first visit 
there and she admired the mountain scenery, the 
majestic highlands, whose tops were then gilded with 
the rays of the setting sun, painting with purple and 
gold a cloud that rested on Beacon, presenting a scene 
to her of indescribable beauty. After family worsliip, 
Mr. Vannist retired for the night, and spent an hour 
preparatory to rest in meditation, as he had an appoint- 
ment on the morrow at Mr. Monfort's. A good night's 




Wharton House, Fisbkill Village. 

rest refreshed him very much, and he awoke just as he 
heard the summons at his door that breakfast was 
waiting ; vvlien he hastily arose and made all haste to 
get ready, and when he entered the parlor he apolo- 
gized for his not rising earlier, but Mrs. Van Wyck 
said that he was in time for breakfast, and then all 
were soon seated around the table, and Mr. Vannist 
returned thanks for past mercies, and His protecting 
care through the night. He then informed Mr. Van 
Wyck that they would be obliged to leave as soon as 
breakfast was over, as his appointment at Mr. Monfort's 
was at 10 o'clock. After breakfast, Mr. Vannist read a 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 43 

chapter from tlie Psalms, and offered a prayer, in which 
Mr. Van Wyck and family were remembered at the 
throne of grace. Pompey was told to saddle the Domi- 
nie's horse and lead him to the front yard. Mr. Vannist, 
after thanking Mr. Van Wyck for the kind treatment 
that he had received from himself and family, and the 
many pleasant hours spent at his house during his stay 
at Fishkill, helped Kebekah on the pillion, w^ho invited 
the Miss Van Wycks to return her visit, hoping they 
might enjoy a visit at Poughkeepsie as hers had been at 
Fishkill. They set out for Peter Monfort's. It was a 
lovely June morning, and the country just emerging 
from a w^ilderness, presented a wild and romantic scene. 
Primitive forests, dark and dense, yet covered the 
country, untouched by the woodman's axe, and as they 
journeyed over the solitary road, they passed the time 
in conversation. Occasionally a squirrel would aiTest 
their attention, leaping through the tree tops, and a 
grouse or rabbit would flee from their seclusion at the 
noise of their approach, and disappear in the depths of 
the woods. Their progress being so slow^, and time 
passed away so unheeded, that they did not arrive at 
Mr. Monfort's until half an hour past the time appoin- 
ted. But a goodly number of his congregation from 
New Hackensack and Hopewell had collected in the 
barn, which was well arranged for the occasion. The 
ancient Dutch barns were built with a double frame 
work. The outer frame arose but a little way, when 
the roof commenced. A second frame work, twelve 
feet from the first one, went up, which supported the 
roof, and between the two frame works were the linters, 
where the hay and grain were stored. These linters 



44 DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 

being empty at this season of the year, and the weather 
warm, Mr. Vannist would once a month hold meetings 
in barns in New Hackensack, Hopewell or vicinity, 
before he returned to Poughkeepsie, after preaching on 
the Sabbath at Fishkill, as no church had yet been 
erected at either place. The congregation seated them- 
selves in the linters, and an open space in the center 
of the barn was allotted for Mr. Vannist, who com- 
menced the services by addressing the throne of grace. 
He opened the Bible and read the one hundred and 
thirty-fifth Psalm, and then the singing w^as led by 
Rebekah in Dutch. After which a practical discourse 
was delivered from the first verse of the Psalm just 
read : "They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount 
Zion, which cannot be removed, but abideth forever." 
The congregation listened with interest wdiile he deliv- 
ered his sermon, and after the services were over, they 
all gathertid around their Dominie, shaking him by the 
hand and inviting him to go home and take dinner 
with them. After thanking them all for their kind- 
ness, they dispersed for their homes, and the Dominie 
and Rebekah took dinner with Mr. Monfort, who enter- 
tained them very pleasantly. After an hour's rest after 
dinner, spent in pleasant conversation with Mr. and 
Mrs. Monfort, they set out for Poughkeepsie. 

The heat now was oppressive, and Mr. Vannist and 
Rebekah were exposed to its scorching rays, and after 
having traveled a few miles they concluded to take 
shelter under a large oak tree that stood near the high- 
way and remain there an hour or more until the svm's 
rays should be less penetrating, and oh, wliat a precious 
hour that was to Mr. Vannist. They sat for some time 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 45 

in silence and nothing broke the stilhiess but the occa- 
sional chattering of the squirrel and the singing of birds. 
He at length became tearfully agitated, so much so 
that Rebekah perceived it, and she gazed at some object 
to hide the secret throbbings of her heart, and at last 
the stillness was broken by Mr. Vannist, who then 
offered her his hand and his heart. Rebekah was so 
overwhelmed with emotion, that she had not the power 
to express herself, but placing her hand in his, nodded 
assent. A gleam of joy irradiated the Dominie's face, 
and as the heat was subsiding, they commenced their 
journey, he urging his horse, for the day was getting 
towards its close, and they were yet several miles from 
Poughkeepsie. A sudden shower obliged them again 
to stop and seek shelter under a tree, as no house was 
near to afford them protection from the falling rain- 
drops. But the clouds soon dispersed, and they trav- 
eled on, the sun again shining from below the clouds, 
and before them lay luxuriant fields covered with a 
tapestry of green, meadows blooming with buttercups 
and daisies, sparkling in the recent falling raindrops. 
As they neared Poughkeepsie, the sun was sinking 
below the western horizon, the last rays were gilding 
the eastern hilltops, and the approaching shades of 
evening touched the landscape with inexpressible 
beauty. Mrs. Schank had been looking for their return 
for some time, for Mr. Vannist had informed her that 
if nothing prevented they would return before night on 
Tuesday. Presently she saw them coming down Main 
street, and her anxiety was relieved by seeing them 
once more safely ensconced in her house. Sanco took 
charge of the Dominie's horse, and Paul, who had just 



4G DUMINIE AAN NLST's COUKTSHIP. 

come from liis store, saw that he was well cared for. 
Rebekah Schank. accompanying Mr. Vannist to Fish- 
kill, created considerable excitement among the matrons 
in Poiighkeepsie, and they would congregate in each 
other's houses and discuss the subject. Some thought 
it was not right for the Dominie to take a girl with 
him when going to Fishkill to preach, and not return 
until Tuesday night ; others said that they saw no harm 
in it, but they were all confident that they would make 
a match. '^Don't you see," said one, "how often they 
walk out together!" ''Yes," says another, "I saw 
them pass by our house one evening last week, going 
towards the river, engaged in close conversation." 
"Why," says an elderly lady, "I can see Paul's garden 
from our back window, and I have frequently seen 
them at twilight, sitting in Paul's summer house, and 
I heard Sanco say that Misses Becca and Massa Domi- 
nie were walking in the garden every night." 

Rebekah did not communicate to her mother that 
Mr. Vannist had oflered himself to her in marriage 
until some days after her return from Fishkill. She 
merely told her of the pleasant time they had spent 
among the people there, and the many acquaintances 
she had made. But Mrs. Schank had long seen that 
an ardent attachment had existed between them, which 
she hoped would ultimately end in marriage. This 
was a source of great anxiety to her, for she was fear- 
ful that he occupying a high position in society and 
the influence he had in his congregation and in the 
community at large, he might not condescend to marry 
Rebekah, but she also thought he woidd not win the 
affections of her daughter and then not marry her, but 



DOMIXIE VAX NISt's COURTSHIP. 47 

she would wait and see wliat the future would bring 
forth. A few more days had passed, when Rebekah 
and her mother were in the sitting room alone. The 
father and two brothej-s, Isaac and Cornelius, were at 
the store, and Dominie Vannist had just left Pough- 
keepsie for Fishkill, and would not return until the 
next Monday. Saoco was at work in the potato field, 
clearing the hills of weeds. Juda and Filhs were at 
work in the kitclien, and Mrs. Schank was busily 
engaged in their household duties. Rebekah then 
informed her mother of Mr. Vaiinist's offer to her in 
marriage, when returning from Fishkill. Her mother 
looked at her with some surprise, to think that she did 
not comnumicate to her this information before, but 
Rebekah said tliat she waited for a favorable oppor- 
timity, and then suddenly her father came into the 
room, and she related to them the diffidence and agita- 
tion the Dominie manifested under the large tree by 
the wayside, when he gave her his heart. Her parents' 
joy was unbounded, and the news soon spread through 
the village, that Dominie Vannist was engaged to 
Rebekah Schank, which now was the topic of conver- 
sation. Dominie Vannist promised Rebekah that he 
woidd return on Monday from Fishkill, as he would 
not preach at Hopewell until his next regular appoint- 
ment there, and he arrived home on Monday at noon, 
in time for dinner. After dinner, the Dominie and 
Rebekah retired to his room, and an hour was spent 
in close conversation. She related to him that she had 
made known to her parents his offer to her in marriage, 
and tlie pleasure it would afford them to see them 
united, and, said she, the report is now circulated 



4S 

through the village that we are engaged, and the wed- 
ding is appointed ; and she farther said that Isaac told 
her that he overheard several young men, one a law- 
yer, talking over the affair at the Van Kleek House, 
wondering if they would be lucky enough to get an 
invitation, and several of her associates had hinted to 
her of her intended marriage. In the evening, Mr. 
Vannist entered the sitting room where Rebekah and 
her parents were sitting. The air was sultry, for it 
was midsummer, and Paul had just returned from his 
store, leaving his son Isaac there to attend to custom- 
ers. As soon as the Dominie entered, Paul arose and 
seated himself close to an open window, to catch the 
summer breezes that were gently passing, when he 
remarked that he hardly had time to ask him if there 
was anything new at Fishkill, whether any of his con- 
gregation was sick, and where he remained over night. 
Such questions were usually asked when the Dominie 
returned from preaching or visiting his parishioners, 
and then the conversation ceased and a stillness per- 
vaded the room for some time. Mr. Vannist knew 
that Rebekah had informed her parents of his offer to 
her in marriage, and the diffidency he expected he 
would have to contend with had subsided, and he 
proudly asked Mr. and Mrs. Schank for their daughter 
in marriage. "Yes," said Paul, "and I hope, with the 
blessing of God," but he could say no more ; ecstatic joy 
pervaded his soul, and his mind was so absorbed with 
his daughter's marriage, that he could not find words 
to express himself. Mrs. Schank then remarked that 
Rebekah was their only daughter, and she could wil- 
lingly consent to give her to him in marriage, and if 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 49 

she made him half as good a wife as she had been to 
her parents a dutiful and loving daughter, she would 
be worth to him more tlian all this world could give. 
Rebekah had been listening with intense interest, and 
when her mother related her filial affection and her 
consent for her to be united to him, until separated 
only by death, she could not refrain from weeping. 
Her love for her parents and their love for her pre- 
sented to her mind vivid recollections. Their tender 
assiduities, the watchfulness over her in the helpless 
period of infancy, how they had guarded her heedless 
youth, and their increasing anxiety for her welfare in 
subsequent life, all tended to awaken emotions in her 
bosom which she could not suppress. Mr. Vannist 
remained calm and self-possessed, and the question 
which had so long lain next to his heart, had been 
decided, and now his mind was relieved, and soon all 
w^as tranquil in the room, when Mr. Vannist said it 
was time to retire, and bidding Rebekah and her 
parents good night, he went to his room, and seating 
himself by his window, his mind reverted to the events 
which had just transpired. He was only twenty -six 
years old, and what bright visions did the future unfold 
to him. He was soon to be united to one to whom he 
had given the warm gushings of his heart ; her youth, 
her amiability, and her modest deportment, all tended 
to fill his soul with joy unutterable. 

When it became generally known throughout the 
village that Dominie Vannist was engaged to Rebekah 
Schank, the excitement partially subsided, and the long 
expected event, when they were to be married, was 
looked for by the united congregations with interest. 



50 DOMINIE VAN NIST's COUKTSHIP. 

Paul, who had the supervision of the parsonage, now 
began to look after the premises. It had not been 
occupied since it was vacated by the Rev. Benjamin 
Meynema, and the premises were in a dilapidated state. 
The villagers had trespassed on the grounds, and some 
of the outside fence was broken down ; the window 
shutters were swinging, and the hinges of some were 
broken, caused by the fastenings not being secured. 
Paul had endeavored to protect the parsonage and he 
did all that lay in his power to keep trespassers off, but 
nights, boys and young men would go into the enclos- 
ure and commit depredations which he could not redress. 
He now employed a blacksmith at his own expense to 
make new hino-es for the window shutters, and himself 
and Sanco repaired the outside fence, and Mrs. Schank 
set Fillis and Juda to work at the interior, cleaning 
the floors, scouring the huge timbers overhead, white- 
washing the side walls, and cleaning the cellar and 
garret. Paul set out some apple trees in the lot that 
lay next to the Court house, and planted cherry trees, 
gooseberries, and currants in the garden, and when he 
went to New York to buy goods, he intended to pur- 
chase some nice furniture for his daughter, but the 
marriage had been postponed until Spring. 

The winter of 1760 and '61 had been comparatively 
mild, and Mr. Vannist did not fail to go and preach at 
Fish kill eveiy alternate Sabbath, for so little snow had 
fallen during the winter, that traveUng was but little 
obstructed. Often times in severe winters the snow 
would block up the highways so that traveling would 
be impossible and Mr. Vannist could not fulfill his 
appointments regulariy, but the present wdnter enabled 



DOMINIE VAN NISX's COURTSHIP. 51 

him to attend to tlie spiritual wants of his people, and 
his leisure hours were spent in his study room with 
Rebekah, where they would remain for hours. Occa- 
sionally, when the weather was pleasant, they would 
call on some of the villagers, but Mr. Vannist was 
always attentive to the sick, and nothing would pre- 
vent his visiting the afflicted and imparting spiritual 
consolation at the bedside of the dying. 

The first spring month had now arrived, and the 
migratory birds began to appear, and every indication 
of the breaking up of winter w^as now apparent. The 
blue birds were warbling on the house tops, and flocks 
of wild geese and ducks had collected on the river and 
swamps, which afforded plenty of game for the hunter. 
Paul had connnenced making preparations for the wed- 
ding, which was to take place on Wednesday, the 5tli 
of June, at his house. 

Paul was making great preparations for that impor- 
tant event. The congregation from Fishkill had sent 
up to his house a large supply of turkeys and fowls. 
Madam Brett had sent a whole side of beef and a leg 
of nmtton. Paul had received from New Hackensack 
and Hopewell large quantities of provisions, and when 
the morning of the 5th of June dawned, there never 
was a loveher one. The spits in Paul's large kitchen 
fireplace, at an early hour, were hanging full of turkeys, 
fowls, beef, mutton, etc, for the wedding was to take 
place at twelve o'clock. The huge oven was crowded 
to its utmost capacity with pies, puddings, cakes, and 
other good things, and there was also sausages, souse 
and head cheese, A dozen or more colored girls were 
employed in cooking and baking. It was customary 



52 DOMINIE VAN NISt'S COURTSHIP. 

in those days, when weddings took place, to keep what 
then was called "open house/' that is, to extend a gen- 
eral invitation a certain distance to every house, as the 
population was so sparse, and Paul gave a general 
invitation in the village of Poughkeepsie and a mile in 
the country, for all to be present. At ten o'clock the 
then village of Poughkeepsie presented a novel scene. 
The two congregations commenced to assemble and 
large wagon loads came pouring in Main street to Paul's 
house, some seated on chaii-s taken from their houses, 
some sitting on clean straw on the bottom of the wagon 
box ; young men and women on horseback, all flock- 
ing to Paul's house. Paul seeing that it was useless 
to have the ceremony performed in the house, as he 
wished all to have an opportunity to witness it, con- 
cluded to have the marriage take place out of doors. 
He at once set several negroes at work erecting a plat- 
form in his yard, fronting Main street, and in an hour 
it was completed. As the hour of twelve drew near, 
the excitement became intense, and what added more 
to the enthusiasm was the appearance of Madam Brett, 
in her coach, drawn by four horses, coming down Main 
street, with two negroes in the front seat and one negro 
on the rear of the coach, whose business was to open 
the carriage door. It was always customary for the 
patentees to ride in a carriage di'awn by four horses. 
The Van Cortlandts, Phillips, Vei-plancks, Beekmans, 
and Livingstons, always rode out for pleasure in carri- 
ages drawn by four horses. The Phillips, who owned 
the great Highland Patent, kept up that custom the 
longest. As late as 1S16 they rode out with their 
carriage with four horses. Tlie old carriage is still in 



DOMINIE VAN NISt's COURTSHIP. 53 

existence. It was shown to the writer last summer by 
the foreman of the Phillips mansion at Garrison, in an 
out-building, where it had not been taken out for years. 
The wheels are as heavy as an ordinary lumber wagon 
used by oui- farmers at the present day, only a great 
deal more dishing. The carriage body rested on what 
was then called thorough-braces, which were used 
before the invention of the elastic spring. These thor- 
ough-braces gave the body a swinging motion, which 
yielded to the unevenness of the road. The carriage 
was more spherical and heavier than those used at the 
present time. The English coat of arms is emblazoned 
on the doors, and the interior was once beautifully 
tasselled. The page's seat in the rear is so arranged 
that he could either stand or sit to suit his convenience. 
If he stood up there were handles for him to take hold 
of so tliat he could keep his equilibrium. 

In the carriage with Madam Brett was the Rev. 
Gualterius DuBois, from New York, who was to per- 
form the ceremony, and two of her grand children. Her 
luisband had been accidentally killed when compara- 
tively young. Coming from New York on board of a 
sloop, the boom of the vessel struck him when enter- 
ing the mouth of the Fishkill creek near Byrnesville, 
in 1721. It is said that his remains were interred in 
an old burying ground near there, where it is still to 
be seen. Dominie DuBois had come from New York 
by land on horseback as far as Madam Brett's, and 
remained there over night, and leaving his horse at the 
Madam's mansion, he came to Poughkeepsie with her 
in her carriage. Paul was pleased to see Madam Brett, 
for he was fearful that she would not be able to attend 



54 DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 

the wedding, for she was nearly eighty years of age 
and infirm. She only lived three years after, as she 
died in 1764. When the hour of the wedding arrived, 
the excitement became intense ; the street in front of 
Paul's house was literally blocked with people. Every 
available space was occupied. The house tops near 
by were covered with people, and the forest trees in 
close proximity to Paul's yard were filled with half 
grown boys and negroes. Paul's barn roof and eveiy 
window in his house; every pane of glass could be seen 
with a face peering through. Presently the bride and 
groom made their appearance, and walked gracefully 
on the platform, and Dominie DuBois confronting them. 
Over the platform swung the Dutch coat of arms, and 
on each end of the platform was fastened two banners, 
on one was large letters in Dutch, "Fishkill," on the 
other "Poughkeepsie." On the Fishkill banner was 
the representation of the Saviour's advent in the world, 
and the star which the wise men saw in the East, and 
beneath read : "When they saw the star they rejoiced 
with exceeding great joy." On the other banner was 
"Poughkeepsie," and that represented Moses on Mount 
Sinai receiving the law, and on it read, "And the glory 
of the Lord shone upon Mount Sinai, and the cloud 
covered it six days, and the seventh day he called unto 
Moses out of the midst of the cloud." While the mar- 
riage ceremony was solemnized the stillness of death 
pervaded the vast throng, and the heavens seemed to 
drink in with the assemblage. No waving cloud was 
seen, not even a ruffle was heard through the tree tops. 
The bride wore a trailing dress, and she held in her 
hand a boquet of choice flowers. The groom was 



DOMINIE VAN XIST's COURTSHIP. 55 

dressed in small clothes, with silver knee buckles. 
After the ceremony was over, and the customary salu- 
tations passed, it was voted that Dominie DuBois 
should decide which banner was the prettiest, as there 
had been considerable strife between the two congre- 
gations which should excell. Dominie DuBois rather 
hesitated, but the ladies persisted till at last he con- 
sented. After paying an elegant tribute to the two 
banners, he said that if there was any difference, he 
should have to give Fishkill the preference. The 
Dominie had scarce finished, when quick as a flash 
cheers rent the air for Fishkill, the bride and groom, 
and the Dominie. Paul joined in the merriment with 
the Fishkillers. Some of the Poughkeepsie ladies were 
a little chagrined, but it was soon over. The table for 
the Fishkill people was set first, as they all wished to 
return home that afternoon. Precisely at one o'clock 
the table was all ready, and in the centre of it stood 
their banner. At the head of the table was seated the 
bride and groom, and Dominie DuBois sat next to the 
groom, and Madam Brett opposite, beside the bride. 
At the table was seated Colonel John Briuckerhoif, 
General Jacobus Swartout, Jacob Van Benschoten, 
Peter Monfort, Goris Storm, Robert R. Brett, John N. 
Bailey, Stephen Purdy, Cornelius Van Wyck, Johan- 
nas Terbush, and others. After the Fishkill congre- 
gation had finished eating, they invited the bride and 
groom to make them a visit, and then they dispersed 
to their homes. The Poughkeepsians then set their 
table and placed their banner upon it, and then the 
bride and groom took their place at the head the same 
as at the Fishkill table. By the side of the groom was 



56 DOMINIE VAX NISt's COURTSHIP. 

seated Dominie DiiBois, and beside tlie bride sat 
Katrine Van Kleek. Seated at the Poughkeepsie table 
was HendrickBeekman, Bartholemew Cornell, Jacobus 
Vander Bogart, Boltus Van Kleek, Robert R. Living- 
ston. Leonard Lewis, Panl Schank, and others. The 
last table was the negroes', which occnpied the rest of 
the day, and at sunset it was all over. Madam Brett 
remained over night at Paul's, as he would not con- 
sent for her to return home the same day, for he 
tliought it too great an undertaking. She and Domi- 
nie DuBois left the next morning. Before leaving she 
gave Rebekah twenty guilders to buy her furniture 
when she commenced housekeeping, but, alas, that 
happy day never arrived, as the sequel will show. 

Dominie DuBois remained a week at Madam Brett's 
after the wedding, and preached on the following Sab- 
bath at Fishkill before returning to New York. 

Rebekah did not commence housekeeping as she 
first intended. Her father thought that the parsonage 
needed more repairs than he first apprehended, and he 
thought it advisable to defer it until the next Spring. 
The Dominie and his wife spent their Summer vaca- 
tion visiting his friends in New Jersey, and before 
returning home they made a visit at Dominie DuBois's, 
who was then pastor of the Middle Dutch Church in 
New York, and had officiated at their marriage. The 
fall and winter they spent nnich time visiting among 
their people. Anotlier Spring had now arrived, and 
about the latter part of March, Dominie Vannist got 
ready to go to Fishkill to preach, as it was the regular 
Sabbath to do so. He parted from his wife with a kiss, 
and set out for Fishkill. 



DOMINIE VAN NISt's COURTSHIP. 57 

The day was raw and chilly, and his progress was 
extremely slow. Every step his horse sank to his fet- 
locks in mud, and wishing to get to Fishkill before 
night overtook him, made no stop at New Hackensack. 
A damp snow commenced falling before he reached 
what is now known as Swartvvoiitville, and this added 
to the slowness of his journey ; his horse at last was 
taken sick and he was obliged to dismount and lead 
him, and walking in the snow he felt a dampness pene- 
trating his garments, and not reaching Fishkill Village 
until dark, when on arriving at Mrs. Terbush's, his 
clothes were wet and he was very much chilled. This 
place is now the residence of Lewis B. White ; the 
house was demolished l)y his father. Dr. Baiio White, 
in 1808, who then owned the premises. Mr. Vannist 
hitched his horse to a post and then knocked at the 
door for admission. Mrs. Terbush came to the door 
and expressed her surprise on seeing him covered with 
snow, which was melting and the water dripping off 
his clothes, and invited him into the house. He 
informed her that he had just come from Poughkeep- 
sie, and at this time Mr. Terbush entered who saw 
his minister, who told of his exposure and the illness 
of his horse. Mr. Terbush had the Dominie's horse 
immediately put in his stable, and set one of his 
negroes to rub him and then cover him witli blankets. 
Mr. Vannist unbuckled his shoes and then taking them 
off and laying them aside, a dry pair of stockings was 
given him, and also taking off his wet garments and 
exchanging for dry ones, he took his seat close to a 
large open fire, which had been replenished by one of 
tlie domestics. Mrs. Terbush now set to work prepar- 



5S DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 

ing something for Mr. Vannist to eat, who had been 
exposed to the storm and eating nothing since he left 
Poughkeepsie. He, however, ate bat Httle, and com- 
plained of chilliness and aching of his head and limbs. 
Seating himself by the fire nntil early in the evening, 
when he wished to retire. Mrs. Terbush had placed 
a warming pan filled with ignited coals in his bed, and 
when it had been sufficiently warmed, he took a glass 
of wine, diluted with milk, and retired for the night. 
Mr. Vannist had a comfortable night's rest and he 
awoke refreshed. Mr. and Mrs. Terbush, feeling very 
uneasy and anxious to hear from him, early inquired 
after him, who expressed himself very comfortable 
after refreshing sleep, and thought that he would be 
well enough to preach. At breakfast Mr. Vannist's 
appetite was much better, and after the fimiily wor- 
ship, he spent what little time he liad left in collecting 
material, and looking over his sermon, which he had 
previously written. It was a clear, bright Sabbath 
morning, and the forests on the mountain tops were 
encased in snow and ice, which glistened in the rays 
of the sun. Every bush and sapling was bending under 
the weight of the new fallen snow^, presenting a wintry 
appearance. As the day progressed, the warm sun- 
shine began to dissolve the snow into slush and water, 
rendering the traveling very disagreeable. Mr. Van- 
nist rode with Mr. Terbush in a phaeton. A goodly 
number of his congregation were present, and he 
preached with his usual energy and zeal. His text 
was in Psalms, fifty-eighth chapter and last verse, 
"Verily there is a reward for the righteous, verily he 
is a God that judgeth in the earth." Mr. Vannist in 



DOMINIE VAN NIST's COURTSHIP. 59 

the first place dwelt on the joys of the rigliteous, and 
in strains of heavenly wisdom he portrayed the joys 
that awaited them beyond the grave, but, said he, 
verily He is a God that judgeth in the earth, and all 
who will not put their trust in Him will eventually be 
judged with divine retribution. Mr. Vannist returned 
with Mr. Terbush from church, and after partaking of 
dinner, he remarked that he felt chilly and an aching 
similar to that of the preceding evening. He seated 
himself close to the fire, endeavoring to seek relief from 
the heat it produced, but the pain increased until he 
was unable to sit up, when Mr. Terbush helped him 
in bed. He had a very restless night, and Mr. Terbush 
thought it advisable to send for a physician, who, on 
visting him, found him suffering from a violent fever. 
He left medicine, with instructions as to how it should 
be administered, and said he woidd call again the next 
day. The physician was prompt as to time, and found 
his patient rather more comfortable, but his fever was 
unabated, and after giving instructions to Mr. and Mrs. 
Terbush as to care and treatment, he left him. The 
assistance of kind neighbors, who volunteered their 
services to help take care of their pastor, contributed 
much to alleviate his sufferings, but when the physi- 
cian arrived the next morning and examined his patient, 
he was somewhat alarmed. His disease was typhus 
fever, which now had assumed a violent character, and 
he thought it advisable to dispatch a messenger to 
Poughkeepsie to procure a consulting physician and 
inform Mr. Vannist's people of his illness. He then 
wrote a note, addressing it to Paul Schank, informing 
him of the sudden illness of Mr. Vannist, and stating 



60 DOMINIE VAN NISt's COURTSHIP. 

the nature and character of the disease, and if the fever 
continued as violent a few days longer he should con- 
sider him dangerous. The messenger arrived at the 
Van Kleek House at eleven o'clock, and informed the 
proprietor that Dominie Vaimist was very sick at the 
house of Mr. Terbush, in Fishkill Village. He then 
gave his horse in charge of the hostler and proceeded 
to the store of Paul Schank, and handed the note to 
his son Isaac, his father having just gone to the house. 
Isaac immediately took the note to his father, who 
opened it and read the contents to himself, in the 
presence of his family, and while perusing it he 
betrayed considerable emotion, which was perceived 
by Rebekah, who anxiously inquired if anything was 
the matter. Her father then handed her the note, and 
she commenced reading it, but before finishing, it fell 
from her hand to the floor. Bursting into tears, she 
left the room, and there all alone she gave vent to 
excessive grief Paul, too, had commenced weeping, 
and his wife and son stood gazing on the mournful 
scene, not yet having learned the cause of their sorrow. 
After recovering a little, Paul informed them of Mr. 
Vannist's illness, and then all wept, and after an inter- 
val of a few minutes, Isaac said that the messenger 
was at the Van Kleek House, and as soon as his horse 
was rested he was going to return to FishkiU w^th a 
physician who had been sent for in consultation. Paul 
then went to Rebekah's room and found her weeping 
violently. He infonned her of what tlie messenger 
had said, and tliat probably the next news that they 
would hear from Mr. Vannist might be encouraging, 
but Rebekah wished to see him very much, and then 



DOMINIE VAN NIST'S COUETSHIP. 61 

her father offered to go with her immediately to Fish- 
kill, which offer she accepted. 

They did not set out for Fishkill until the next 
morning, for Paul had to look for a conveyance, he 
having none suitable, owning only one horse. Finally 
he procured a chaise, and they started early for Fish- 
kill, and at eleven o'clock they arrived at Mr. Ter- 
bush's. Mr. Vannist was more comfortable, and he 
inquired of the physician from Poughkeepsie if Mr. 
Schank had been informed of his sickness, who replied 
in the affinnative, and then said that himself and 
daughter had just arrived, and they would be in pres- 
ently. A gleam of joy illuminated the sick man's face, 
and in a few moments Rebekah and her father stood 
before him. Mr. Vannist had strength sufficient to 
extend his hand, and then said "Rebekah," who placed 
her hand in his, and the scene was so solemn and im- 
pressive that all present were overwhelmed with sor- 
row. Mr. Vannist expressed himself to her that his 
Saviour was precious, and with a feeble voice said, 
"Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul both 
sure and steadfast." Paul, after taking an affectionate 
leave of his minister, who trusted that if not permitted 
to meet here again they would meet in Heaven, re- 
turned to Poughkeepsie, leaving Rebekah at Mr. Ter- 
bush's, who watched almost incessantly at the bedside 
of her dying husband. He commenced sinking rapidly, 
and Rebekah soon saw clearly his approaching dissolu- 
tion, and when the physician gave up all hope of his 
recovery, she calmly resigned herself and bowed in 
submission to the will of Him who doeth all things 
right. His last words to her were, "We will meet in 



62 DOMINIE VAN NISt's COURTSHIP. 

Heaven," and the lUth of April, 17(31, he breathed his 
last. 

Mr. Vannist's funeral took place at the church at 
Fishkill, the third day after his decease, and the whole 
surroimding countr}^ came to pay their last respects to 
one who held so strong an affection in the heartg of his 
people. His congregation from Poughkeepsie, New 
Hackensack and Hopewell, were all present. At ten 
o'clock the funeral procession commenced moving 
slowly from Mr. Terbush's to the church, headed by 
the clergy, physicians, and pall bearers, who were the 
officers of the church at Fishkill and Poughkeepsie. 
The floor of the church had been taken up from under 
the pulpit, and the earth removed and deposited on 
the floor beside the grave, and there the remains of the 
Rev. Jacobus Vannist were deposited. This custom 
of burying ministers beneath the floor, under the pul- 
pit, in the Dutch church, died out in the year ISOO. 
Rebekah, who had been with Mr. Vannist in his last 
sickness, and had stood beside his dying couch until 
his death, was now viewing the last mournful scene 
with her parents and brothers. It was not customary 
to preach funeral sermons in those days ; a brief prayer 
and then an exhortation was delivered by the Rev. 
Hermanns Meier, of Esopus, who alluded to the short 
period Mr. Vannist had labored amongst his people. 
"Only two years and a half," said he, "since his set- 
tlement with them. God took him in the veiy Spring 
time of life, but his work is done, and the loss to his 
people is irreparable." During the address, the speaker 
alluded to the uncertainty of hfe and the necessity of 
a preparation for death, and the loss of their minister 



63 

drew tears from many of the congregation. The coffin 
was then lowered into the grave, and the pall bearers 
commenced removing the earth from, the floor, and as 
it sounded on the cothn, Rebekah's heart wrung with 
anguish, and when the grave was filled with earth, and 
the mournful throng slowly dispersed, she remained 
tliere with her parents for some time. At last they 
slowly left that hallowed spot and wended their way 
homeward. A tombstone was erected to his memory, 
and placed in the churchyard at Fishkill, bearing the 
following inscription in the Dutch language: "Jacobus 
Vannist, preacher of the Holy Gospel in Poughkeepsie 
and Fishkill, died the 10th of April, 1761, in his 27th 
year." This tombstone, in process of time had disap- 
peared, but was accidentally discovered when digging 
a grave, where it had been placed. This stone is now 
placed against the rear wall of tlie church. 

Until 17S3, the old Dutch burying ground in Pough- 
keepsie remained undisturbed, and Paul Schank's burial 
plot was where Smith's restaurant is now located, and 
where the tombstones of Rebekah and her parents 
could be seen. The congregation then abandoned 
that ground and built their church on the opposite side 
of the street. Market street w\is then laid out through 
the burying ground, intersecting Cannon street, which 
then had just been opened. The remaining portion 
of the burying ground was leased for fifty years, in 
lots, to individuals. The leases prohibited the lease- 
holders from having cellars underneath the buildings 
erected thereon. These leases expired in 1833, when 
new leases were given, with the privilege of putting 
cellars underneath the buildings that stood on the old 



64 DOMINIE VAN NIST's COUKTSHIP. 

burying ground. The ashes of the dead were then all 
collected and placed in a vault prepared for that pur- 
pose, which is located in the rear of Smith's restaurant. 
There the remains of Rebekah and her parents lie, and 
there they will lie until summoned by the voice of the 
archangel, and by the sound of the trumpet of God. 
Then that vault will open its marble jaws, that grave 
will give up its dead, and Rebekah and her husband 
will come forth clothed in tlie bright vestments of 
immortality, and then they will all receive the joyful 
summons that will call them to their glorified home in 
Heaven. 



THE SUBALTERN. 

A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION. 

The village of Fishkill Landing is comparatively of 
modern growth; including Matteawan, they have a 
population of some seven thousand inhabitants, and 
being in close proximity, they should be included in 
one village or city. They have doubled their popula- 
tion within a score of years, and they bid fair to vie 
with any city on the Hudson, between New York and 
Albany. Their locations are well chosen ; the scenery 
of the Highlands, the majestic Hudson, and the valley 
of the Fishkill, all combine to make the place attrac- 
tive to the capitalist and the pleasure seeker who wish 
to spend their simimers in the quiet valley lying near 
the base of the mountains. Men of wealth and culture 
have already selected this place for their country resi- 
dences, and several country seats have been erected, 
some at large cost. But what a change has taken 
place since the Revolution, Then, where these villa- 
ges are located, there were only a few isolated dwel- 
lings. The mansion of Mrs. S. Veq^lanck, and of the 
Honorable Isaac Teller, deceased, built by Madam 
Brett, in 1710, and the old Pine house, east of Mattea- 
wan, on the highway leading to Fishkill Village, are 



G6 THE SUBALTERN. 

the only relies now remaining of the Revolution, that 
we know of. The Teller house was then occupied by 
a gentleman named Depeyster, who came in possession 
of the mansion after the death of Madam Brett, in 
1764, including the mill owned by her. Depeyster 
carried on the milling business, buying all the grain 
the country produced far and near, and after convert- 
in"- his wheat and corn into flour and meal, he would 
ship it to New York, where he had a brother engaged 
in mercantile business, who would sell it for him. 
Depeyster was a man of wealth, and occupying the 
Madam Brett mansion, he lived in the style of the 
patentees. His parlors were well furnished, and in 
the inclement season of the year, two blazing wood 
fires were constancy kept burning in them. His fam- 
ily consisted of his wife, son, several daughters, and a 
brace of negro slaves, for then slavery was tolerated 
throughout the country. 

The Revolutionary war had broken out, and the 
battles of Lexington, Bunker Hill, and Long Island 
had been fought, and the American army had suffered 
a total defeat in the latter battle, and were obliged to 
retreat through New Jersey, which created great alarm 
throughout Fishkill, particularly the following Spring, 
when they heard that General Burgoyne, with ten 
thousand veterans, besides a host of Canadians and 
Indians, were marching from Canada, intending to 
force their way through the interior to New York city. 
General Washington hurried on Gates and Arnold, 
with an army collected from the New England States, 
and to these they joined the immortal Morgan, who 
had one thousand riflemen. Burgoyne was getting 



THE SUBALTERN. 67 

hemmed in near Saratoga, and the British commander 
in New York, hearing of his critical situation, sailed 
up the river with a large fleet to aid him, if possible. 
The inhabitants at Fishkill Landing, hearing of this 
large fleet coming up, were so terrified that most of 
them, with their famihes, decamped for the interior of 
the county, for a place of safety. Some sought refuge 
at Quaker Hill, in the eastern part of the county, others 
in the great Nine Partners, and some even in Connec- 
ticut. Depeyster's family, excepting himself, his 
daughter Katrina, and two negro slaves, Dinah and 
Pompey, removed to what is now known as the town 
of Pawling. Depeyster was a staunch whig, and he 
was determined not to leave his home, and flee, shoidd 
the British fleet appear above the Highlands ; and his 
daughter Katrina, and the two negro slaves, resolved 
to keep him company. A battle was expected to be 
fought in the immediate vicinity, and but few inhabi- 
tants remained at Fishkill Landing, and they kept a 
strict watch for the apj^earance of the fleet. General 
Washington supposed that the fleet might land some- 
where near Cold Spring, and effect an entrance through 
the Highlands to Fishkill Village, and he accordingly 
stationed his army on the most advantageous positions 
in the Highlands, near the village. His headquarters 
were what is now the residence of Sidney E. Van 
Wyck, Esq., generally known by the name of the 
Wharton House. A heavy chain, supported by buoys, 
was stretched across the river at a narrow pass in the 
Highlands, but when the fleet struck the chain it snap- 
ped asunder like a reed, without injuring a vessel or 
obstructing the fleet, and onward they sailed up the 



68 THE SUBALTERN. 

river, and when the fleet hove in sight of Nevvburgh 
and Fishkill Landing, it created great consternation 
among the inhabitants. But to their great joy the 
fleet passed by without landing, occasionally tiring oft' 
a cannon at the buildings on the shore, the balls whist- 
ling over the river's banks, striking sometimes near an 
isolated dweUing. 

But the fleet sailed on, for they heard that a great 
battle had been fought, and Burgoyne was obliged to 
retreat, and his army greatly reduced and suffering for 
the want of provisions, and unless aid should soon 
come, he would be obUged to surrender. The fleet 
arrived opposite Kingston, then called Esopus, and 
there the commander learned that Burgoyne had sur- 
rendered with all his amiy to General Gates, The 
British commander, on hearing the sad news, ordered 
the village to be set on fire, and then immediately 
retired for New York. Arriving opposite Newburgh 
they halted, the fleet anchoring in the bay. Then 
Newburgh was located on the top of the hill, a small 
village containing only a few hundred inhabitants, and 
it was not imtil after the revolution, that streets were 
laid out on the descending slopes to the river. The 
main road that led to the river wound around the brow 
of the hill at the head of Golden street. North of Col- 
den street, where Front street now is, the bank of the 
river was then skirted with gigantic forest trees and a 
large growth of underbrush. Some young men crawl- 
ed "through the underbrush near where Mailler's store- 
house is now located, and fired upon the fleet, when 
instantly several cannon were brought to bear upon 
the spot. The cannon balls tore off some of the large 



THE SUBALTERN. 69 

limbs of the trees, which fell with a tremendous crash, 
demolishing the underbrush, and so frightened the 
young men that they fled for their lives. 

A number of officers came ashore on the Fishkill 
side. Among the number was a subaltern, who took 
a stroll up the hill to near where the store of J. E. 
Member is now located, and casting his eye over the 
valley of the Fishkill, viewed the majestic Highlands, 
whose tops seemed reared to the clouds. The subal- 
tern seated himself on a post-rail fence, which was 
then a favorite fence with the Dutch, which consisted 
of posts set in the gromid, with holes made and posts 
inserted with a post-axe, when the rails were placed 
in and securely fastened. There sitting he fell into a 
deep revery, and while musing he was unconscious of 
aught that was passing around him, and time passed 
by unheeded, when suddenly he bethought himself, 
and looking toward the river saw that the fleet bad 
disappeared from view. He hastened with all his 
speed to the river's brink, in hopes of seeing the fleet 
near enough to signal them, but the vessels were fast 
disappearing in the Highlands, and probably they had 
not yet discovered that he was left behind; and sailing 
under favorable wind it was impossible for him to 
expect to reach the fleet on foot. The first idea that 
presented itself to his mind was to take a horse from 
the pasture fields and mount him, and by putting him 
to the top of his speed, try to overtake the fleet, but 
that would be a hazardous undertaking, for he might 
be taken as a spy, and then his life would have to pay 
the forfeit. He next thought of disguising himself and 
trying to reach New York through the interior, but to 



70 THE SUBALTERN. 

pass the lines without detection would be almost im- 
possible, and if taken prisoner his chance of life would 
not be as favorable as to surrender himself, and frankly 
state the truth. He walked slowly to the top of the 
hill where the village of Fishkill Landing is now 
located, but how different the scene appeared. Noth- 
ing greeted his eye but extensive fields, and now and 
then an isolated farm house. The main highway lead- 
ing to Matteawan did not exist then, and where that 
busy street is now, was nothing but wnld, uncultivated 
fields, covered mostly with forest. The subaltern left 
the highway and commenced slowly walking across 
the fields toward Matteawan, but the scenery which 
recently he had so much admired, had lost all attrac- 
tion for him. His mind reverted to his native land, 
and the home of his childhood. The tender ties of a 
mother and sisters came rushing through his mind ; 
how they wept when he eidisted to fight at the call of 
his covmtry, and how their hearts would wring with 
anguish if they should hear that he was taken prisoner, 
and probably end his Hfe on the gallows. Overcome 
by such thoughts the subaltern burst into tears. 

Looking around he descried the Depeyster mansion. 
The day was drawing to a close, and no human being 
was in sight. The atmosphere was becoming chilly, 
and it reminded him of the necessity of obtaining lodg- 
ing. He thought first of passing the night in an out- 
house, but he at length concluded to try and gain 
admission to some house, not knowing what reception 
he would receive. He knew that it w^ould be impos- 
sible for him to escape being taken prisoner in the heart 
of an enemy's country, unless he could exchange his 



THE SUBALTERN. 71 

military suit for a citizen's dress, and even if he could his 
chance then would be very precarious, and after reflec- 
tion he concluded to try and find shelter for the night 
in some dw^elling. He timidly approached the Depey- 
ster mansion and gently knocked. 

Depeyster had been much alarmed through tlie day 
on account of the British fleet stopping opposite Fish- 
kill Landing, for he had a large supply of grain in his 
mill, and he was fearful they might seize the mill and 
take the contents, and he kept close watch through 
the day, and when the subaltern knocked for admission 
he was alarmed, for he had not heard that the fleet had 
left. He was revolving in his mind whether to obey 
the summons or not, but he finally concluded to go to 
the door and see who was there. Katrina remon- 
strated, for she was fearful something serious might 
occur. She supposed that the British fleet yet lay in 
Newburgh bay, and that some officers might make 
demands on her father, which, if not acceded to, their 
house might be sacked, their mill broken into, or 
something more dreadful happen. But Depeyster told 
Pompey to fetch him the gun from the armory, which 
was done immediately, and Katrina holding a light, 
for it was now dark, they cautiously approached the 
hall door and inquired who was there and their busi- 
ness. The subaltern replied that a friend in misfortune 
wished to obtain a night's lodging. Depeyster opened 
the door, and a richly dressed British officer stood 
before them. The subaltern introduced himself by 
saying that he belonged to the British fleet that had 
recently sailed up the river, and on returning the fleet 
had anchored off' Newburgh bay, and several officers, 



72 THE SUBALTERN. 

witli himself, came ashore, and he admiring the sceneiy 
of the Highhmds had strayed from his comi>anioiis, and 
falhng in a revery had remained some time in deep 
thought, thinking of the fnture of tliis country, and 
that the colonies would eventually become free and 
independent, when suddenly recollecting himself, he 
looked on the river and not a sail was in sight. Re- 
tracing his steps with all haste to the river, he said he 
saw the last vessel disappearing in the Highlands, and 
he had probably not yet been missed by his compan- 
ions. What course to pursue he did not know; he 
first thought of trying to make his escape, but upon 
reflection he concluded to abandon the idea, supposing 
that he would be taken for a spy, and then there would 
be but little hope of saving his hfe, and as night was 
close at hand, and the weather somewhat cold, he 
thouo-ht to try and gain admittance at some house, 
hoping some one would be kind enough to receive 
him. 

Depeyster and Katrina listened very attentively to 
the young officer, and they could not help but admire 
the dignity that he possessed, as he was unifonned in 
the style becoming his rank. Depeyster politely 
invited him to remain for the night. The subaltern, 
after thanking him for his kindness, was ushered into 
a large parlor, Katrina leading the way. Depeyster 
infonned him at once that he must secure his side 
arms and search his person, which the subaltern read- 
ily consented to, for Depeyster suspected some plot 
was being concocted by the enemy, and it was neces- 
sary for him to be very cautious as to who he received 
into his house. 



THE SUBALTERN. 73 

The subaltern surrendered his side arms to Depeys- 
ter, and after a thorough search he discovered nothing 
that led him to believe but that he had given a true 
account of himself. Depeyster infomied him that Gen. 
Washington, with a large army, was encamped at the 
village of Fishkill, a few miles east, and was awaiting 
the movements of the British fleet ; and expecting that 
it would land somewhere near the Highlands, he had 
posted his artny at Fishkill Village, in order to give 
them battle, and at the same time telling the subaltern 
that he must be taken to Fishkill on the following 
morning, and handed over to General Washington, and 
if he had given a true account of himself, he might be 
dismissed on parole or be remanded to prison until an 
exchange of prisoners, and he apprehended no danger 
of losing his life. The subaltern said nothing, but 
drew his chair close to the fire to warm himself, for 
he had been exposed to the cold. When he reflected 
on his situation, he covered his face with his hands, 
and commenced weeping. He was only twenty-three 
years of age, and was related to some of the first fami- 
lies in England, and occupying a position in the British 
army, his appearance commanded respect. As he sat 
there thinking of his dear mother and sisters at home, 
that they might never see him again, his wliole form 
convulsed with agony. He could exclaim with Jonah 
of old, 'H3h Lord, take, I beseech thee, my life from 
me, for it is better for me to die than to live." His 
appearance touched the heart of Katrina, and every 
cord there seemed to vibrate as she looked at the sor- 
row stricken officer, his hair falhng in disheveled locks 
over his face, sparkling like gold from the liglit of the 



74 THE SUBALTERN. 

blazing wood fire, that shone so bright where he sat. 
It awakened emotions in her bosom which .can better 
be imagined than described. Depeyster had sent Pom- 
pey to summon two of the nearest neighbors to his 
house immediately, as he had some business of impor- 
tance with them, while Katrina and Dinah set about 
getting supper. The subaltern at length became more 
calm and collected, and partially recovering from his 
melancholy condition, he for the first time surveyed the 
room. He was struck with the splendor that he saw 
around him, for the house was most gorgeously fur- 
nished for those times. Splendid mirrors and paint- 
ings were suspended upon the walls, caqjets of burn- 
ing crimson, a massive mahogany side board in the 
corner of the parlor, loaded wnth plate and inlaid wath 
rose wood, and tables of the same material. The win- 
dows, covered with costly hangings, greeted his eye, 
whilst Katrina and Dinah were busily engaged in pre- 
paring for supper. Soon everything was ready, and 
Depeyster politely invited the subaltern to partake 
wdth them. Soon they were all seated around the 
table, Katrina presiding, and ordering Dinah to attend 
to the wants of the subaltern, who was well cared for 
also by Depeyster, who bountifully supplied him with 
everything the table afforded. 

Katrina then was only about nineteen years of age, 
and her person was peculiarly attractive ; her counte- 
nance was always radiant with smiles, and down a 
finely curved neck fell her dark auburn ringlets in 
graceful disorder. Her well developed forehead, almost 
concealed by the rich tresses, portrayed a mind well 
stored with knowledge. She knew nothing of the false 



THE SUBALTERN. 75 

coquetry of the city belles, who pay their devotion to 
the shrine of fashion, and sport with the most sacred 
feelings of the human heart. She was open, frank, 
candid ; her lips knew no guile, her heart whispered 
no deceit, she was the lovely Katrina. Her filial affec- 
tion was unbounded, and when the British fleet sailed 
up the river and was expected to land at Fishkill 
Landing, and a battle was expected to be fought in 
the vicinity, and her mother, sisters, and brother fled, 
she could not think of leaving her father alone and 
unprotected ; she would share with him all the priva- 
tions and dangers that might occur. 

After supper, the subaltern, wishing to retire for the 
night, for he was much fatigued and downcast on 
account of the misfortunes which had befallen him, 
Depeyster conducted him to a bedroom in the upper 
story, close to the roof, where he thought it was the 
safest place to prevent him from making his escape, 
and shutting the door and turning the key in the lock, 
securely locking the door, he left the subaltern alone. 
In the meantime Pompey had returned, accompanied 
by two neighbors that Depeyster had sent for, and 
whom he informed of the whole transaction ; the 
manner that the subaltern came to his house and the 
account that he gave of himself. How the British 
fleet had left him in the heart of an enemy's country, 
and the anguish of mind he was now suffering, fearing 
when tried he might be found guilty and be imprison- 
ed, or perhaps lose his hfe. Depeyster thought it 
would be necessaiy for each to take his turn and watch 
till morning, for the subaltern might make an efl'ort to 
escape. This was acceded to, and each man stood 



76 THE SUBALTERN. 

sentinel in turn while the night lasted. But the sub- 
altern had no disposition to flee; he lay quiet till 
morning, but his mind was restless. If he could be 
released on parole, he would be willing to accept the 
proposition, for he had no disposition to fight against 
the Colonies any more. He loved his country, it was 
true, but the kind treatment he had received softened 
his heart towards a people which his country branded 
as rebels, and now he was willing, if he could get his 
discharge, not to fight against the Colonies any more. 
Katrina he could not dismiss from his mind, and for 
one so young he had seen no one in all his intercourse 
with the world so interesting, and the tender assidui- 
ties he had received from her poured into his afilicted 
breast the healing balm of forgiving consolation. But 
the night wore away, and the rays of the king of day 
gilded the tops of the Highlands, and throwing his 
forked arrows through the glens and valleys that lay 
around the Depeyster mansion, sunnnoning the subal- 
tern to arise, that another day had dawned and ere its 
close a more terrible fate than he yet had experienced 
might be his. He had been up, and was walking to 
and fro across his room, when the noise of footsteps 
arrested his attention, and his bedroom door was 
unlocked and opened by Depeyster, who informed him 
that breakfiist was waiting him, and at the same time 
the subaltern followed him to the breakfast room, 
where Katrina and Dinah had everything prepared. 
Soon they were all seated at the table, and before they 
had finished, the two neighbors who had remained 
with Depeyster through the night, drove in front of 
his mansion with a conveyance, which had been pre- 



THE SUBALTERN. 77 

viously arranged to take him to Fishkill. Having 
finished breakfast, Depeyster informed the subaltern 
that it would be necessary for them to take him to 
headquarters, and there he would be examined before 
a military tribunal, and if nothing appeared against 
him, he felt assured that he would be discharged on 
parole. There was then but two roads that led to 
Fishkill Village from the river. One went about north 
as it passed the Depeyster mansion, and when the con- 
veyance left there with the subaltern carefully guarded 
by Depeyster and his two neighbors, Katrina from the 
porch gazed at him until they disappeared from view. 
She hoped that he would at least be set at liberty, for 
she believed that he had given a true account of him- 
self, and she felt an intense interest in his welfare, and 
her father had promised to exert all his influence in 
liis behalf. Depeyster, with his pnsoner, jogged along 
towards Fishkill. 

The country then wore a different aspect from the 
present day. No smiling villages greeted the eye ; 
only now and then a solitary farm house w^as seen, and 
large tracts of primeval forest skirted the valleys and 
covered the mountain sides, in some places extending 
up to the highway and looming up in all their grand- 
eur where now is a busy thoroughftire, where the snort 
of the iron horse is heard almost every hour, with vil- 
lages, country seats, and opulent farm houses inter- 
spersed. But their journey was soon terminated, and 
Depeyster, v^dth his prisoner, was soon at the head- 
quarters of Washington, and an interview was had 
with him. After hearing all the circumstances from 
Depeyster respecting him ; how he came to his house 



78 THE SUBALTERN. 

tind surrendered himself, and now was safely handed 
over to his charge to be disposed of, Washington 
ordered the subaltern to be remanded to prison until 
lie could summon a court martial to try him, wliich 
would take place in a few days. 

Tlie Refomied Dutch Church was then used as a 
prison, and it was a different structure from the pres- 
ent one. The building was four square, with a roof 
coming up from all sides to the center. From the 
apex of the roof ascended the cupola where the bell 
was suspended, and the Dutch coat of arms surmounted 
the top. The window liglits were very small, set in 
iron sash frames, with port holes above for a place of 
defense against Indian incursions, which the early set- 
tlers were exposed to when the country was first set- 
tled. In front of the church was a large oak tree, 
whose giant arms extended over the street. One large 
limb came in close proximity to a window in the upper 
story. Among the prisoners confined in this church 
with the subaltern, was tlie celebrated spy, Enoch 
Crosby, who figured in Cooper's writings as Harvey 
Burch, who one dark stormy night crawled through 
one of the port holes and ventured to leap to a limb of 
this tree, which he succeeded in catching, and then 
softly letting himself down till he reached tei'ra firma, 
when he was but a few feet from the sentinel, but the 
howling of the tempest drowned the noise that was 
occasioned by his descent, and he made his escape. 
Four years after the revolution this edifice was demol- 
ished, and the present church erected, which, for the 
want of funds, was not completed until 1794. 

In the time of the revolution, there were two fami- 



THE SUBALTERN. 79 

lies whose names were Bailey living in Fislikill Vil- 
lage, one a great grandfather of the writer, who was 
born in the town of Westchester, Westchester county, 
N. Y., who purchased a farm in Fishkill containing 
214 acres of land. The farm is now owned by Charles 
C. Rogers and William M. Baxter. The old homestead 
house was where Baxter now resides, and was replaced 
by the present edifice a few years ago. The other 
Bailey left the city of New York when the British 
took possession of it, and sought a temporary shelter 
in Fishkill in a small building near the highway close 
to where Mr. Rogers now resides. This Bailey was a 
cutler by trade, who made or repaired the sword of 
Gen. Washington while he resided there, and stamped 
his name upon it, "J. Bailey, Fishkill." Historians 
who have written upon the subject, have said that the 
Bailey with which family I am connected, made the 
sword, not knowing that there was another Bailey, 
whose name was John, living in Fishkill Village during 
the revolution. This cutler left Fishkill after the war, 
and returned to his home in New York. 

The subaltern's trial took place in what was known 
of late years as the Union Hotel. The same building 
and room in which he was tried remained the same 
until the great fire in December, 1873, when the 
building was totally destroyed. In time of war trials 
of prisoners soon terminate, and the subaltern's case 
was quickly disposed of. As nothing further was 
proved than as above stated by Depeyster, the prisoner 
was released on parole. The subaltern, after thanking 
Washington for the kindness shown him, returned 
with Depeyster, who invited him to remain with him 



so THE SUBALTERN. 

until he should get his final discharge, which invita- 
tion the subaltern gladly accepted. When Katrina 
saw him returidng with her father, and learned from 
Inm that he was discharged on parole, slie was much 
pleased, for her anxiety for his release was very great, 
and it afforded her unspeakable consolation to see him 
once more, not a prisoner, but a guest in her father's 
house. Depeyster's son, who fled with his mother 
and sisters when the British fleet sailed up the river, 
had not returned, and Depeyster needed his son's assis- 
tance very much, particularly in his mill, for he had 
the supervision of his books, and the accounts of all 
transactions in buying and selling was mainly done 
through him. The subaltern, learning this fact, vol- 
initeered to assist him. Depeyster soon found that his 
services were indispensable in the absence of his son, 
for he rendered him every assistance in keeping his 
accounts accurate, and being competent, he soon won 
the admiration of Depeyster and all who had inter- 
course with him. The subaltern began to feel more 
contented at his new home, and after business hours 
had passed, and seeing that the mill was safely locked, 
he always spent his leisure hours wdth Depeyster and 
Katrina, who tried to make eveiything pleasant for 
him, and long after Depeyster had retired for the night, 
Katrina and the subaltern would occupy the parlor 
alone, and their attachment for each other grew more 
ardent, and their love intense, as evening after evening 
glided away. 

The winter of 1780 was the coldest that had ever 
occurred in this country. The cold weather set in 
early, accompanied with snow storms of such depth 



THE SUBALTEKN. 81 

that the fences were buried under the snow, and the 
highways were literally blocked and impassable. For 
forty-two days it did not thaw on the sunniest side of 
a building, and the river froze to such an extent that 
loaded teams crossed the river at New York city to the 
opposite side, and the bay that extends to Staten 
Island, a distance of nine miles, was covered with ice 
strong enough to enable the British to transport their 
cannon across it in safety. The suffering through 
Fishkill was terrible, on account of the great depth of 
snow, rendering it almost impossible for the inhabi- 
tants to get to the mill. What little traveling there 
was through the country, was by roads on top of the 
snow, over fences, taking the nearest route to any 
given point. This road had to be beaten hard before 
it could be much used, and if the traveler deviated the 
least from the track, his sleigh and horses would 
instantly sink to such depth in the snow that he would 
have great difficulty in getting them again on the 
track. The difficulty in passing and repassing could 
only be overcome by detaching the horses from the 
sleigh and leading them singly by, then hitching them 
again to the sleigh with ropes, drawing the sleighs 
past each other on the beaten track. The snow har- 
dened by the severe cold, formed a crust on the earth 
sufficient, with the aid of snow shoes, to bear the 
weight of the heaviest man. This gave the inhabi- 
tants the advantage to shorten the distance by taking 
the nearest route to Depeyster's mill. The frost was 
so intense that it was almost impossible for Depeyster 
to stop the ice from clogging the wheels of his mill, 
and enable him to grind for the suffering inhabitants, 



32 THE SUBALTERN. 

who came from ftir and near, crossing the river from 
Orange county with their hand sleds loaded with bags 
of grain. The subaltern and Pompey were constantly 
at work with their axes, cutting the ice that would 
form through the night, in order to start the mill as 
soon as possible the following morning, and often they 
would be assisted by many whose families were almost 
starving, so as to enable them to return home with 
their grist to satisfy the cravings of hunger. 

But the long dreary winter gradually passed away, 
and the genial spring returned once more, dissolvmg 
the snow, and breaking the icy barriers which had so 
long held sway, and drivhig old Boreas to his icy den, 
covering the earth once more with verdure and beauty. 
Depeyster's f^imily had returned, and the political hori- 
zon wore a more cheering aspect. The war cloud 
which had been so long hanging over Fishkill, had dis- 
appeared. Washington had removed his anny to the 
South, where the war was now raging, and it inspired 
hope in Depevster that the struggle which his comitry 
was passing through would finally teraiinate m her 
independence. The sul^altern had received his final 
discharge from Washington, but he remained at Depey- 
ster's. For two years he had resided there, and had 
shared with him all the dangers and trials when his 
family was away ; had assisted him in his business 
transactions in the absence of his son •, and now Depey- 
ster felt under obligations for services rendered by hmi; 
yet he had not simnised tiiat an attachment had been 
formed between his daughter and the subaltern, which 
would terminate in his asking for her in marriage. 
Depeyster's love for Katrina was most ardent •, she 



THE SUBALTERN. 83 

had remained with him in time of peril ; she had shar- 
ed with him all the dangers and hardships which they 
had been exposed to ; and with him was willing at any 
time to lay down her life on the altar of their country. 
It was a beautiful summer's evening, and the roses 
and the violets were in bloom ; the geraniums never 
looked more beautiful around the Depeyster mansion. 
The ivy and honey-suckles were chmbing the porch, 
the terraces, and the ornamental trees. The silvery 
moonbeams stole softly through the narrow openings 
of the trees, and in the windows of the parlor where 
sat Katrina and the subaltern. The old family clock 
had long told the hour of twelve, when the subaltern 
had something to say to Katrina, and yet he delayed. 
The large candles on the centre-table had burnt down 
to the sockets in their sticks, and the light streaks of 
day were breaking up the dark clouds in the east. 
Porapey and Dinah were already up, preparing for 
breakfast, when the subaltern offered his heart and 
liand to Katrina, which was at once accepted. The 
subaltern, overburdened with joy, hastened to his bed- 
room, and threw himself on his couch, hardly realizing 
his situation. Ecstatic joy pervaded his soul, and with 
no inclination to sleep, it seemed to him that his life 
for the future would be one of continual sunshine. He 
had yet to get the consent of Katrina's parents. This 
he thought would be no easy task, for they were 
stauncli whigs, and ardently attached to their country, 
while he was a British officer, intending soon to return 
to his native land. Would they be willing, thought he, 
for their daughter to leave her native land, her parents, 
sisters and brothers, and part with them, perhaps never 



S4 THE SUBALTERN. 

to see them again in this world? Such thoughts occu- 
pied his mind when alone, and filled his soul with in- 
tense agony, and a dark cloud overshadowed him. 

Sitting one evening in the parlor with Katrina and 
her parents, the subaltern, summoning courage suffi- 
cient, took the opportunity to ask them for their 
daughter in marriage. In doing this he betrayed con- 
siderable emotion, and Katrina perceiving it, was her- 
self tearfully agitated, and when he put the question 
to her parents her whole frame shook with tremor. 
Her parents gave their consent readily, and Depeyster 
turned to the subaltern and said : 

"If my daughter makes you half as good a wife as 
she has been to me a dutiful and loving daughter, she 
will be worth to you more than aU the diamond mines 
of Peru. Perfect happiness is not to be found in this 
world ; it remains inaccessible to humanity. Calm 
and temperate enjoyment is all that is allotted to men 
while sojourning here below." If any one in the 
world came near reaching that summit of joy, it was 
the subaltern, and when he took a retrospective view 
of his life for the past two years ; how he had been 
left in an enemy's country, friendless and unprotected, 
expecting nothing but imprisonment and death, the 
tears he shed when thinking of his mother and sisters, 
his happy deliverance afterward, and the kind treat- 
ment that he received from Depeyster, and now a 
union with his daughter, which could only be separa- 
ted by death, overwhelmed his soul with gratitude 
unutterable. 

The dawn of the day of our country's deliverance 
had now arrived. CorawaUis had surrendered, and 



THE SUBALTERN. 85 

peace, blessed peace, once more smiled on our beloved 
country, which for seven long years had been drenched 
with blood and bedewed with the tears of widows and 
oi^phans. The joy throughout Fishkill at this event 
was unbounded, for now the inhabitants could beat 
their swords into ploughshares and their spears into 
pruning hooks, and cultivate their wasted farms, which 
had been so long neglected and impoverished during 
the war. But ere the joy had subsided, the marriage 
of Katrina and the subaltern took place in the Depey- 
ster mansion, in the presence of the family, a few friends 
and the negro slaves. After peace, Katrina bid adieu 
to her parents, sisters and brother, and with her hus- 
band left for his native land, and here I will leave them, 
for what I have seen of the mutability of human affairs, 
of life's deceitful hopes and its fleeting and chimerical 
joys, I should fear, were I to follow them through life, 
and add to this narrative, I might be obliged to inscribe 
a misfortune there. But the Depeyster family, which 
then was so influential and wealthy, long since became 
extinct in the town of Fishkill. 



VAN HORN. 

A TALE OF HENEY HUDSON'S EIVEE AND THE 
FISHKOiL INDIANS, 

The Hudson river was discovered by Henry Hudson, 
from whence it derives its name. . He was an English- 
man by birth, and was employed by a London Com- 
pany to make discoveries. A ship was fitted out by 
this company, and given in command of Hudson, to 
discover a northwest passage to the East Indies. This 
voyage, and another for the same purpose, proved 
unsuccessful, and the company suspended their pat- 
ronage. Hudson then went to Holland and entered 
into the service of the celebrated Dutch East India 
Company. This company fitted out a small ship call- 
ed the Half Moon, under the command of Hudson, 
with a crew of some twenty men. Hudson left Ams- 
terdam on the 4th, and the Texel on the 6th of April, 
and arrived on the American coast on the.lSth day of 
July, 1609, near Portland, in the State of Maine. 

After this he sailed southward along the coast, mak- 
ing remarks on the soundings and currents, until he 
came to the entrance of Chesapeake Bay, about the 
24tli of August. From this point he returned north- 
ward along the coast, discovering Delaware Bay, and 
the 3d of September, 1609, he anchored within 



on 



VAN HOEN. 87 

.Sandy Hook. Here he spent ten days trafficing with 
the natives. The tradition is that his men first landed 
on Coney Island, which lies near Long Island, and 
now makes a part of Kings county. On the 11th of 
September he sailed through the Narrows, and on the 
12th he entered the river which bears his name, and 
sailed, up about two leagues. There the Indians visi- 
ted the ship in great numbers, bringing with them 
corn, beans, tobacco and oysters in abundance, and 
exchanging them for such trifles as the ship's company 
were disposed to barter. Although they were civil, 
Hudson did not think proper to trust them, for he had 
lost one of his men before entering the Narrows by an 
arrow discharged by an Indian, which struck him in 
the throat, and by no means w^ould he suffer any of 
them to remain on board durinj? the night. From the 
12th to the 22d of September, Hudson was employed 
in ascending the river, and when he arrived where the 
city of Hudson is now located, he considered it unsafe 
to proceed further. He sent a boat, however, with 
five hands, the mate, who had command of the expedi- 
tion, being one, to explore the river higher up. They 
proceeded to where the city of Albany now stands, 
and returned, rejiorting to Hudson that the river in 
some places was not more than seven feet deep and 
the soundings very irregular, and deemed it unadvisa- 
ble to attempt any farther progress. Hudson remain- 
ed here several days, and his men frequently went on 
shore. The natives appeared very hospitable. An 
old Sachem took the mate to his wigwam, and enter- 
tained him with good cheer, and the savages flocked 
on board the ship in considerable numbers, bringing 



88 VAN HORN. 

with them corn, tobacco, pumpkins and grapes, and 
some beaver and other skins, which they exchanged 
for hatchets, knives, beads and other trifles. Hudson 
and his men, for the purpose of making an experiment 
on the temper of the Indians, attempted to make a 
number of them drunk. They only succeeded in mak- 
ing one completely intoxicated. This phenomenon 
excited great suqirise and alarm among them, for they 
knew not what to make of it, many supposing that he 
would die, but when he became sober, he expressed 
himself to his companions that he never felt better. 
This is the first instance recorded of intoxication by 
ardent spirits among the Indians on the American con- 
tinent. 

On the 23d of September, Hudson began to descend 
the river. On his way down his men went frequently 
on shore, and had several very friendly intercourses 
with the natives, who expressed a desire that they 
might remain among them. The ship anchored in 
the river off where the village of Fishkill Landing is 
now located, and a number of the crew went on shore 
there, and the previous kind treatment they had receiv- 
ed from the natives, induced them to be very intimate 
with them. They visited them in their wigwams, and 
several of the crew ventured some distance in the coun- 
try, following the Fishkill creek up to where Glenham 
now stands, plucking the wild flowers that grew on its 
banks and gathering grapes that hung in clusters on 
vines that had entwined themselves around the giant 
arms of the aged forest trees. While thus amusing 
themselves, they were suddenly surprised by a shower 
of arrows shot by a party of Indians who were ambush- 



VAN HORN. 



ed. Unfortunately they had left their muskets aboard 
of the ship, and having nothing to defend themselves 
with but what materials they could hastily collect, 
such as stones and clubs, and being overpowered with 
numbers, they fled with all haste to the ship, the Indi- 
ans closely pursuing them. One of their companions, 
whose name was Van Horn, received a wound in his 
knee from an arrow, which disabled him, and he was 
captured. The remainder made their escape to the 
ship. Hudson, on receiving this intelligence from his 
men, ordered a number of his bravest men, well armed, 
to proceed immediately ashore and take Van Horn at 
all hazards. The men were quickly rowed ashore, and 
then cautiously penetrated the country, which was 
covered with forests so dark and dense that they could 
not discover an object any great distance ahead. Sud- 
denly a tremendous war whoop was sounded, and then 
the Indians sprung from their hiding places, and with 
tomahawks in hand rushed on their assailants. Hud- 
son's men gave them a warm reception, and leveling 
their muskets they brought several of the foremost of 
them to the earth, which checked their advance. The 
Indians seeing the fate of their comrades, and the noise 
of fire arms so terrifying them, they fled precipitately 
into the woods, Hudson's men pursuing them, but 
being unacquainted with the country, they were oblig- 
ed to give up the pursuit. Van Horn had probably 
been carried off to meet an ignominious death from 
the hands of savages, who seldom show mercy to a 
captive. The crew returned to the ship and reported 
to Hudson their unsuccessful attempt to rescue Van 
Horn. When Hudson received this sad intelligence. 



90 VAN HORN. 

he immediately set sail. This was the second man he 
had lost by the Indians, and when the ship came 
between the Highlands, the natives again attacked 
them, repeatedly shooting at the crew with bows and 
arrows from several near points of land. Hudson's 
men discharged their muskets at them, and killed ten 
or twelve of them. In these conflicts, which were 
frequently renewed, none of the ship's crew appear to 
have been injured. On the 4th of October, just one 
month from the day on which Hudson landed within 
Sandy Hook, he came out of the river which bears his 
name, and without anchoring in the bay, immediately 
stood out to sea. By noon that day he was entirely 
clear of land, and steered directly for Europe. 

Van Horn, who was taken prisoner by the Indians, 
was carried to the Indian village, which was located 
in Fishkill Hook, on the farm now owned by Charles 
Emans, and when the Indians arrived with their pris- 
oner, curiosity became very much excited. The squaws, 
with their pappooses, flocked around Van Horn, all 
eager to get a sight of so strange a personage — admir- 
ing his light complexion, soft flaxen hair, and to them, 
delicate features. The Sachem took charge of his 
prisoner, and conducted him to his wigwam, and had 
his wounded knee dressed. He endeavored to make 
his situation as comfortable as it was in his power to 
do, for he valued his prisoner very highly. A bed of 
the finest robes was made for Van Horn to lie on, and 
some warm com bread and bear's meat was placed 
before him. But he had no disposition to eat, for all 
hope had fled of his being rescued by his countrymen, 
and his heart sank within him. To think of his spend- 



VAN HORN. 91 

iiig the remainder of his life among savages, perhaps 
never to see his countrymen, and never to visit his 
native land again, made his agony of mind indescriba- 
ble. The thought of home, parents, sisters and broth- 
ers, came up vividly before him. How they would 
weep when the ship would reach his country, and the 
mournful intelligence would be conveyed to them that 
he was wounded and taken prisoner by hostile savages, 
who were represented as being cannibals, and that he 
was probably put to death by the most excruciating 
tortures. Sucli thoughts occupied his mind as he lay in 
the wigwam of the Sachem. 

This tribe of Indians had made some progress in 
civihzation. They had a little clearing on the farm 
now owned by Van Wyck and Johnson, where they 
cultivated corn, called Indian corn because it was 
unknown to the Europeans until discavered here. 
They had an apple orchard, which was located on the 
farm now owned by John Waldo, traces of which are 
still visible. Pumpkins and grapes were also found in 
the country. The government of the Indians was 
absolute. The Sachem is the great arbiter of law. 
His power, however, is rather persuasive than coersive ; 
he is reverenced as a father rather than feared as a 
monarch. He has no guards, no prisons, no officers of 
justice, and one act of ill-judged violence would pull 
him from his humble throne. It will be recollected 
that Van Horn was captured about the 20th of Sep- 
tember. The Indian apple orchard then was in full 
bearing, and was loaded with ripe fruit, and the Sachem 
dealt out the fruit to his tribe as lie thought proper. 
None of his tribe would venture in the orchard without 



92 VAN HORN. 

his permission, and the finest fruit he selected for Van 
Horn. Baked apples were placed before hiin in the 
wigwam, in the presence of the Sachem and his fami- 
ly, and every kindness was shown him. No pains 
were spared to make his situation pleasant and com- 
fortable. The kind treatment that he received, reviv- 
ed his drooping spirits ; his wounded knee was improv- 
ing, and in a few weeks he was able to walk, and he 
ventured out of the wigwam for the first time to sur- 
vey the country. 

It was then the pleasant month of October, and the 
valley of Fishkill Hook presented to him a novel scene. 
In the rear of the Indian village was their apple orch- 
ard, in front was their cornfield, and the squaws were 
busily engaged in gathering the crops. Beyond lay 
interminable forests. The aged men and women were 
sitting near. their wigw^ains, and the young men were 
all out on a hunt; the pappooses were playing in 
groups near the village, and the Sachem was superin- 
tending the doings of his people. He had erected a 
fort for a place of safety when attacked by tribes who 
were at war with him, and when obliged to retreat 
they would flee to this fort, and barricade themselves 
in, and keep the enemy at bay. This fort was located 
on a hill near the residence of H. D. Sherwood, and is 
known as Fort Hill to this day. In a few months 
Van Horn had entirely recovered the use of his limb, 
and the Sachem gave him peraiission to go a hunting 
with his tribe and fish in the Wiccapee, a small creek 
that runs through the valley of Fishkill Hook and dis- 
charges its waters in the large creek near Johnsville. 
During the long and severe winters the tribe would 



VAN HORN. 93 

fish in the large creek with nets made of thread twist- 
ed from the bark of Indian hemp, by cutting holes 
through the ice with stone axes or hatchets. In this 
manner they would catch large quantities of fish. Van 
Horn was not allowed to go alone any distance from 
the Indian village, the Sacliem being fearful he might 
attempt to make his escape, but this was almost impos- 
sible. Hudson was the first European that had sailed 
up the river, and probably there would not be another 
expedition sent to make discoveries for some years. 
Hudson had been given the command of the Half Moon 
by the Dutch East India Company to discover a north- 
west passage to the East Indies, and as he was unsuc- 
cessful in discovering such passage, they probably 
would not soon attempt a second voyage. Under cir- 
cumstances like these, Van Horn's chance for return- 
ing to his native land was almost hopeless, yet he did 
not despair. He could not entertain the idea for one 
moment of spending the remainder of his life among 
savages whose living was precarious, oftentimes suffer- 
ing from hunger and cold ; their little stock of provis- 
ions some times consumed before Spring, and then a 
scanty subsistence could only be procured by hunting 
and fishing. 

Van Horn had been accustomed to all the comforts 
and luxuries of civilized hfe, but he fared with the 
Sachem and his family, which was poor enough. If 
any of the hunters succeeded in killing a bear, the 
Sachem selected the choicest part of the beast for him- 
self, the remainder he divided among his tribe ; and if 
a buffalo was killed, which was seldom, as the animal 
was scarce in this part of the country, he always 



94 VAN HORN. 

I'ewarcled his hunters, and there was great rejoicing 
whenever such an event occurred, and a great feast 
was provided on the occasion. That the buffalo exist- 
ed in Fishkill when Hudson discovered the river, there 
is not the least shadow of doubt, although Hudson did 
not see any. He penetrated but a little way into the 
country, and tarried but a few days in one place, and 
spent only one month in exploring the countr}^ adja- 
cent, when he returned to Europe, and nearly a cen- 
tury elapsed after Hudson discovered the river, before 
any permanent settlement was made in Fishkill, 
although it was the first town settled in the county. 
Our early historians have mentioned animals that exis- 
ted in this county when first discovered, that have long 
been extinct. They have mentioned that lions aboun- 
ded on the high mountains along the Hudson, and 
there was seen sometimes a kind of a beast which had 
some resemblance to a horse, having cloven feet, shag- 
gy mane, one horn just on the forehead, a tail like that 
of a wild hog, and a deer's neck. From the descrip- 
tion given of this strange beast, it resembled exceeding- 
ly the unicorn. An animal bearing this description 
has been recently seen in the mountains in Colorado. 

Van Horn was kindly treated by the Sachem, but 
he was very careful not to let him have too much lib- 
erty, for he was the first prisoner he had taken who 
was of a race that he had never seen before. He had 
learnt all the facts of Hudson and his crew when they 
ascended the river ; the description they gave of the 
great ship, which his tribe looked at with wonder and 
amazement ; and lie regarded Van Horn as a great per- 
sonage, and he expected when he had imbibe<l their 



VAN HORN. 95 

manners and customs he would marry his daughter 
Manteo, who was then in the bloom and beauty of 
youth, only twenty years of age, whom the Indians 
regarded with great esteem. Her head was adorned 
with beautiful feathers, and a mantle of deer skin, 
embroidered with white shells, hung gracefully over 
her shoulders ; her waist was encircled with a crimson 
scarf, and moccasins of soft furs encased her feet. Her 
appearance was expressive to Van Horn, and he had 
learned the Indian language sufficient to understand 
the design of the Sachem, and his mind revolted at 
the idea of marrying a savage ; but he soon perceived 
that it would not be advisable for him not to appear 
to reciprocate the affection of Manteo, trusting in 
Providence for a way of escape before he would be 
obliged to yield to the wishes of the Sachem. Van 
Horn had already learned the character of the Sachem, 
and if he sliowed any dislike for his daughter his life 
might pay the forfeit. He showed her every respect, 
and often they w^ent to the Wiccapee alone to enjoy a 
pleasant sail in her little canoe, made of light birchen 
bark, which her father had given her, and how delight- 
ed she was to glide it swiftly, with the splash of her 
oar, over the smooth and limpid waters which Van 
Horn feigned to admire. At times they would prac- 
tice with the bow and arrow, and Manteo was proud 
in showing her skill to White Feather, which name 
the Indians gave him, in shooting the arrow at a mark. 
Manteo became ardently attached to Van Horn, and 
his presence was to her sweeter than nectar, and for 
hours they would remain in the forests alone, sitting 
under some broad armed tree, and drink in, as the 



96 VAN HORN. 

flowers drink the dew, those tender accents so musi- 
cally low ; to catch his burning glances, showing that 
his affections were entwining themselves around the 
secret recesses of her soul, which to her was now the 
glorious dream of her being. How hard it is to unwind 
the tendrils of love gathered around the heart, to cast 
off that passion that we have nursed when its roots are 
interwoven with the fibers of our life. Such love did 
Manteo cherish for Van Horn, and such love he could 
not help but admire. As Van Horn showed much 
respect and affection for Manteo, the Sachem gradu- 
ally extended his privileges. If he went out a hunt- 
ing with his tribe, and strayed off alone in the forests, 
he returned, and often Van Horn did this to try the 
temper of the Sachem. At length he remained out all 
night in the woods without creating suspicion. He 
yearned for his native land, and when alone in the 
forests, would give himself up to serious reflection, 
thinking that soon he would be obliged to marry the 
Sachem's daughter, and then all hopes of his seeing his 
country again would be forever obliterated, and he 
would have to be contented to live the remainder of 
his life with the Indians. Under circumstances like 
these, Van Horn's situation was peculiarly afflicting, 
but he was learning more and more every day the 
geography of the country, and he had learned the way 
to the river, and found the spot where he had landed 
with his countrymen and was taken prisoner by tlie 
Indians. 

One day Van Horn went with the Indians to hunt 
in the swamps which lay along the large creek near 
where Johnsville is now located. He took a different 



VAN HORN. 97 

route and reached tlie i-iver where Hudson's ship first 
anchored. He then sat on the river's bank, thinking 
of his misfortunes. He burst into tears. A year had 
now elapsed since he was captured, and no tidings had 
he received from his country, and no hope of his ever 
leaving this savage wnlderness. His friends perhaps 
had abandoned all hope of ever seeing him again. His 
heart was torn with anguish. How it gladdened his 
heart when Hudson enlisted him to go on a voyage to 
discover a north-west passage to the East Indies. 
What bright visions were then before him, and how 
his parents wept at his departure ; but the anticipa- 
tion of seeing countries heretofore undiscovered and 
unknown to the civilized world, and the fame and glory 
that he would win if successful, would more than com- 
pensate him for all the toil and dangers to which they 
might be exposed. One of the crew had lost his Ufe 
from an arrow shot by an Indian, before Hudson enter- 
ed the river, and Van Horn wished that might have 
been his fate, choosing rather to die than to eke out a 
miserable existence here with the savages. With such 
painful reflections he retraced his steps towards the 
Indian village, where he arrived about sunset, after 
being absent nearly two days. The Sachem had 
become very uneasy about him, for he w^as fearful 
that something might have happened to him, and Man- 
teo, too, ran to meet him, and expressed her great joy 
at seeing him, and accompanied him to her father's 
wigwam, and there provided the finest robes for him 
to rest on, and then she made some warm bread and 
broiled some venison for his supper. Van Horn ate 
heartily, for he had not tasted any food since he left 



9S VAN HORN. 

the village, except some grapes which grew wild in 
the woods, he having made but little eftbrt to shoot 
any game, for he had no inclination to hunt. His 
mind had been occupied in devising some way which, 
through Providence, might carry him back to his native 
land, and to that river where he was taken prisoner, 
he looked for a ship that might be sent out to make 
discoveries and trade with the natives, and if he should 
be so lucky as to see her when ascending or descend- 
ing the river, an opportunity would be atibrded him to 
escape. The Sachem was pleased to see Van Horn or 
White Feather so attentive to his daughter, and he 
looked forward with great pleasure to the day when 
the marriage should take place, and Van Horn read in 
him the desire that he cherished in having him become 
his son-in-law. He always manifested a great deal of 
affection for Manteo, especially in his presence. 

The following winter was dreary enough ; the snow 
fell early and deep, and the weather was often severe- 
ly cold. Game had become scarce, and the Sachem's 
best hunters were constantly out in search of game or 
something to satisfy the cravings of hunger ; and they 
often returned witliout anything. What little stock of 
corn they had, the Sachem dealt out sparingly to his 
tribe. Those that were not so well skilled in hunting, 
employed their time in fishing on the Wiccapee or the 
large creek, and the quantity offish they caughthelp- 
ed to drive away famine. When the winter broke up, 
wild geese, ducks and pigeons .ippeared in great num- 
bers, and the swamps that lie along the Fishkill creek 
appeared alive with them, and the hunters returned 
home loaded with fowl. Van Horn and Manteo, with 



VAN HORN. 99- 

their bows and arrows, would go out in quest of squir- 
rels and pigeons, which then were plenty in the adja- 
cent woods, which they shot in large numbers, and 
Manteo was delighted in spending so many happy 
hours with White Feather, hunting in the forests and 
sailing in her canoe on the Wiccapee. She anticipat- 
ed that the day was not far distant when she would be 
united to him whom she looked upon as one far excel- 
ling her own people, and the love she cherished for 
him penetrated her inmost soul. As the Spring advan- 
ced, the song birds appeared, and the forest trees were 
bedecking themselves in their brilliant garments. The 
wild flowers were expanding their leaves, the apple 
trees in the Indian orchard were unfolding their buds, 
and some of them were tossing their snowy banners to 
the breeze. The valley of Fishkill Hook never appear- 
ed more beautiful in its primitive state. On a pleas- 
ant morning, Van Horn, the Sachem, and his daugh- 
ter, were enjoying themselves sailing in their canoe on 
the Wiccapee. The warm zephyrs of Spring were 
gently wafting its waters ; all was still in the surround- 
ing forests except the singing of birds and the barking 
of squirrels, when the Sachem ajjpointed the time 
when White Feather should marry his daughter. He 
intended to make a grand feast on that occasion, but 
as the marriage would not take place in several months, 
he would delay preparations for the present. The 
Sachem now placed the utmost confidence in Van Horn, 
and he allowed him unlimited freedom to rove where- 
ever he liked, and sometimes he would be absent from 
home several days, lying out nights in the woods when 
the weather was pleasant, subsisting on wild fruit, 



100 VAN HORN. 



heard the report of a musket. It was the first noise of 
fire arms he liad heard since he was taken by the 
Indians. He hastened to the spot from whence the 
noise proceeded, and there beheld one of his country- 
men, who was greatly surprised on seeing him. Van 
Horn was completely overcome with joy, and related 
his whole history from the day when he enlisted under 
Henry Hudson to the time he was captured by the 
Indians, and his subsequent life. He informed the 
stranger that the Sachem lived several leagues in the 
country, and that if he did not make his escape soon, 
he would be obliged to many his daughter. The 
stranger informed Van Horn that he belonged to a ship 
that sailed from Amsterdam, and had arrived on the 
American coast several weeks before, and that they 
had been trading with the natives, and the ship lay 
out in the river nearly opposite. Van Horn thought 
that no time should be lost, for if any of the Indians 
should see him attempting to escape, he probably 
would lose his life, so they hastened with all speed to 
the river, and entered the small boat and rowed with 
all speed to the ship. The captain and crew were all 
his own countrymen, who had been sent from Amster- 
dam to trade with the natives and explore the country. 
The Captain received Van Horn kindly, who related 
his adventures in a country heretofore unknown to the 
civilized world, and how long he had remained there, 
and his living with savages, which was listened to with 
thrilling interest. When the Sachem received the 
intelligence that another sliip had ascended the river, 
and Van Horn had got on board of her and made his 



VAN HORN. 101 

escape, he was mortified and chagrined, and lie regret- 
ted he had not made a slave of him, as it was custo- 
mary with the Indians to make slaves of their prisoners 
or put them to death. 

When Manteo was informed of White Feather's 
escape, and that he had betrayed her, a wild cry of 
agony came up from the very depths of her soul, and 
she was so overwhelmed with grief that she remained 
for months in her father's wigwam, excluding herself 
from the world and continually weeping. The intense 
mental agony that she endured, told fearfully on her 
constitution, and the tender assiduities of her father 
and friends to make her happy once more, all proved 
unavaihng. Death came at last to her relief, and ter- 
minated her existence, and ended her sufferings. Her 
remains were interred in the burying ground of the 
Sachems, which was then on the farm now owned by 
Charles Burroughs. 

Soon after, other vessels were sent out by the Dutch 
East India Company to trade with the natives, and 
trading posts were established at Fort Orange, now 
Albany, and on the island of Manhattan, now New 
York, and the Dutch commenced permanent settle- 
ments in those places which they purchased of the 
Indians. The Dutch settlements commenced extend- 
ing up the Hudson, and a trade was carried on with 
the Indians in Fishkill, and large tracts of land were 
purchased of them in Westchester county, and finally, 
in 1683, the Indians in Fishkill sold their tract, com- 
prising the original town and a portion of the town of 
Poughkeepsie, to Francis Rombout and others. Rom- 
bout was a distinguished merchant in the city of New 



102 VAN HORN. 

York. His only daughter, Kathrina, inherited her 
father's right in the Patent, and with her husband, 
Roger Brett, came and located on the Patent, and 
built the house now known as the old Teller Mansion, 
at Matteawan, in 1710. 

Van Horn arrived at Amsterdam after being absent 
from his native country two years. The joy of his 
parents on seeing their son once more, was indescriba- 
ble, for they supposed, from the intelligence they had 
received from Hudsoji, he was cruelly put to death by 
the savages. Van Horn then related to his parents his 
two years adventures, the manners and customs of the 
Indians, and his happy deliverance, for which he felt 
grateful to a kind Providence, in conducting him safe- 
ly back to his parents and friends. 

But Hudson was resented for a more terrible fate. 
He soon discovered the great Northern bay which 
bears his name. There, after an unwise delay, he was 
compelled to pass a distressing and dangerous winter. 
In the spring, in addition to all of his other misfortunes, 
he found a spirit of dissatisfaction and mutiny growing 
among his crew, and at length manifesting itself in 
open violence. They proceeded so far that on the 22d 
of June, 1611, a majority of the crew arose, took com- 
mand of the ship, put Hudson, his son, and seven 
others, most of whom were sick or lame, into a boat, 
turned them adrift on the ocean, and abandoned them 
to their fate. This was the last that was ever heard 
of Hemy Hudson. 



THE SQUATTER S DAUGHTER. 



A TALE OF THE EAELY SETTLEKS OF PUTNAM 
COUNTY. 

Putnam County was formed from Dutchess County, 
June 12th, ]S12. This county was originally the 
great Highland Patent granted June 17th, 1697, to 
Adolph Philipse, a merchant of New York city, who died 
in 1743, without issue, leaving his estate to his nephew, 
Frederick Philipse. The latter had five children, 
Frederick, Philip, Susannah, Mary and Margaret. This 
patent was divided into nine lots, three each four miles 
square, bordering on the Hudson, and denominated water 
lots; three each four miles wide by twelve long, ex- 
tending north and south of the patent, and denomin- 
ated long lots — and three each four miles square upon 
the east border, and denominated back lots. This pat- 
ent was considered the most unproductive of any pur- 
chased on the Hudson, and large portions of it were 
then considered of little value, embracing all the rough, 
rocky and mountainous portions of Putnam county. 
In those mountainous districts the squatters would 
locate, and the first patentee, Adolph Philipse, who 
then resided in New York, and was engaged in the 
mercantile business, did not molest them, and during 



104 THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 

his life he received but Httle from the sparse popula- 
tion that was located there. 

After the j^atent was divided, as above stated, Philip 
Philipse became heir by will to one-third of the pat- 
ent, and during his life his estate enhanced in value, 
and he had agents to collect the rents of his large 
landed estate. He, like his predecessor, allowed those 
tenants denominated squatters, who inhabited the 
mountainous portion of the patent, to remain there 
rent free, thinking they would have to struggle hard 
enough to gain a livelihood without exacting any dues 
from them. 

A squatter, whose name was Naza,reth Austin, 
located on the south part of the patent, now known as 
Canopus Hollow, one of the roughest parts of it. 
Amongst his neighbors he usually went by the name 
of Ned. The patent was originally covered with for- 
ests, and Ned was there some years before the patentee 
discovered where he had squatted. Ned then had 
made some progress in clearing a little spot to plant 
some corn and potatoes between tlie rocks and stones, 
which literally covered the earth. He had erected a 
log hut, raised a yoke of steers, two cows, and a dozen 
sheep, and was so situated as to keep soul and body 
together. Horton pond, which is now known as Can- 
opus lake, was but a little way from Ned's hut, and 
there he would resort eveuings, and sometimes on rainy 
days, to spear the pickerel and bass which abounded 
in the water. Ned's family consisted only of his wife 
and daughter, and Pompey, the dog; they were the 
only inmates of his cabin. The few neighbors that 
lived near him, like all settlers, were fond of the chase 



105 

and spent much time in hunting. Ned having no sons, 
his daughter Jane would sometimes accompany them 
througli the forests in quest of game and wild animals, 
which then inhabited those mountains. The wolves, 
sometimes, during the long severe winters, when driven 
by hunger, would come out of the mountains and make 
great havoc amongst the squatter's sheep and cattle, 
which was attended with a loss more or less severe 
to them. The squatters, too, were very eager to des- 
troy the wolves more than any of the beasts of the 
forests, for the county had offered for every wolfs head 
five shillings English currency. 

During one very cold winter the wolves became 
more troublesome than usual in the neighborhood, and 
some one would lose a sheep or other stock almost 
every night, and the settlers at length came to the con- 
clusion to try to rid themselves of the wolves which 
infested the neighborhood. If a light snow had fallen 
during the night it was easy to track them to their 
dens. Such an opportunity soon presented itself to 
the squatters. A light snow had fallen, and the wolves 
had again committed depredations, carrying off" and 
destroying several sheep. The squatters lost no time 
in pursuing them, and Ned, with several of his neigh- 
bors, including even his daughter, were eager in the 
pursuit. They followed the track with the help of 
Pompey, the dog, and soon found where a wolf had 
entered his den. It was a precipitous ledge of over- 
hanging rocks, with an apartment underneath suffi- 
ciently wide for the wolves to enter. At the mouth 
were discovered partial remains of the head and legs 
of sheep and calves. The company concluded that 



106 THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 

there must be a number in the cave, but how to force 
them from it was a difficult task. Ned had lost several 
sheep by the wild beasts. He made several flambeaux 
out of birchen bark and pitch, which he obtained from 
the piue trees which the forests abounded in, and cau- 
tiously ventured into the mouth of the cave. The 
ingress was wide enough for him to proceed with gun 
in hand, with Pompey close at his heels. The wolves, 
seeing the approach of Ned, retreated out of the cave 
from the opposite side of the ledge. But Jane, who 
had been watching the movements with a double-bar- 
rel rifle, brought two out of three of them to the 
ground. "Bravo," cried Ned; "daughter, we will 
have the bounty now," and he soon had their heads 
hanging in his cabin. 

Ned, during the winter season, spent his time prin- 
cipally in hunting, and in the spring he would take his 
wolves' heads to Poughkeepsie, to obtain the bounty, 
and when he received the money he would divide with 
his wife and daugliter, and this was the only money 
that his family received. It was carefully treasured 
up, for the farm supplied Ned's family with the means 
of subsistence. Although it was mostly covered with 
rocks and large forest trees, Ned, with the help of his . 
wife and daughter, felled the lofty pine, the sturdy 
oak, and removed large stones and piled them into 
heaps, and reared walls around the little clearings they 
had made. At length Ned had a dozen or more acres 
enclosed where he could keep his sheep from straying 
out into the gloomy forest. 

In this manner Ned's daughter grew up accustomed 
to labor, helping her father on his farm, and during 



THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 107 

her leisure hours she would take her rifle and Pompey 
and go to the forests in quest of game, and oftentimes 
the sharp crack of her rifle would stop the bounding 
moose and start the elk, which then were inhabitants 
of those mountains. At other times she would amuse 
herself in fishing in her little boat in the Canopus lake, 
taking the trout and the pickerel which abounded in 
the waters. Sometimes she would shoot the eider 
duck, for large flocks were often seen sporting on the 
surface of the lake. She could also manage the steers 
equal with her father. In this manner she grew up to 
womanhood, away almost from civilization. But Ned's 
wife was a woman of different tastes, and in her youth 
she had enjoyed polished society, and had received 
advantages of education, and although living there in 
the rude wilderness, where civilized man hardly enter- 
ed, yet her appearance bespoke that she had seen bet- 
ter days. Her daughter Jane was her only hope, and 
it grieved her to think that she was shut up there in 
the wilderness secluded from the world, with no socie- 
ty but squatters to associate with, and no school but 
her father's cabin to educate her. During the winter 
season, when the weather was too cold to help her 
father cultivate his little plantation, or hunt in the for- 
est, or fish in the lake, Jane would sit in their little 
cabin receiving the teachings of her mother, who had 
brought wnth her from Europe a neat library, which 
she had carefully preserved when she settled in this 
country with a colony of French Huguenots. Here in 
their log cabin she had taught her daughter the first 
rudiments of education, and all the useful branches of 
learning that she was capable of. Ned's pioneer life 



lOS THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 

had formed habits of necessity in his family, Hke all 
the first settlers of a new country, and although his 
daughter had been accustomed to this mode of living, 
yet the instruction she received from her mother gave 
her a polish which otherwise she could not receive, for 
education then in this country was confined to the few. 

As the country became settled, the lands on the 
patent enhanced in value, and Philipse had come to the 
conclusion to make every man who was located on the 
patent pay rent or leave. Accordingly an agent was 
sent to accompany his son, a young man of twenty- 
two years of age, to ferret out the squatters. The old 
Philipse homestead then was at Cannel, on the south 
side of the lake. The agent and young Philipse set 
out on horseback, for the country then was too rough 
for wheel carriages, and they occupied several weeks 
in finding the number of inhabitants on their vast 
domains. 

At length they came through Canopus Hollow, the 
roughest portion of the patent. It was in the month 
of December and the wintry winds were sweeping 
through the valley of Canopus, and they were cold 
and fatigued with the journey. It was late in the day 
when an opening was seen in the forests, and a log 
cabin was presented to their view. They rode Tip to 
the door and knocked for admission, when Ned opened 
the door and asked what they wanted. The agent 
replied that he was the authorized agent of the great 
Highland Patent, and he was sent out to look up the 
number of settlers that were upon it. He said the 
patentees had come to the conclusion that every man 
that was located on the patent should pay rent or 



THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 109 

vacate the premises ; at the same time pulling a paper 
from his pocket showing his authority as agent for that 
purpose. Ned invited them to come in and he w^ould 
have a talk with him. The agent and young Philipse 
accepted the invitation, and they immediately dis- 
mounted. Ned had constructed a temporary shed of 
logs, and had covered it with a bark roof, and took 
their horses and led them under the buildings and gave 
them provender, and then they entered his cabin, Ned 
leading the way, and introducing them to his wife. 
The agent and young Philipse surveyed the interior of 
the cabin. The furniture was simple, consisting of one 
table, a few chairs, a looking-glass, one bureau and a 
bed in the furtherest corner of the cabin. On the 
bureau they noticed a number of books and an atlas 
hanging directly over the bureau. A pair of stairs led 
to the garret. A December storm was about setting 
in. A drizzling rain had already commenced, and Ned's 
wife remarked that it was time that Jane returned. 
She had only gone to the lake to fish a little while, 
and she expected her home ere this time. At that 
instant Jane opened the door of the cabin and was at 
once in the presence of the strangers. In one hand 
she held a basket filled with fish, and in the other she 
held some game, which consisted of two ducks and a 
number of black squirrels. Black squirrels were num- 
erous in this country when it was first discovered by 
the Europeans, and they were plenty in all of the river 
counties as late as the Revolution. In the last half 
century they have entirely disappeared. They are yet 
found in western New York. The sudden view of the 
strangers, so entirely unexpected to Jane, caused her 



110 THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 

to be deeply agitated, but quickly recovering hersell 
she showed the fish and game to her parents. Her 
mother then introduced her to the strangers, and after 
the usual ceremonies had passed, Ned spoke and said 
that the gentlemen would remain over night and that 
they wanted supper. Ned's wife and daughter set 
about to get the repast, Ned, in the meantime, building 
the fire. The fire-place occupied one side of the cabin, 
and was large enough to take in long wood, Ned soon 
yoked his steers and hauled a large log to the door, 
and with the lielp of his wife and Jane they rolled it 
in the large fire-place, and then placed a smaller one 
on the top with the aid of hand spikes j then Ned and 
his wife lifted a fore-stick in front and then filled the 
space with small wood. Soon the fire commenced 
blazing up the mouth of tlie huge stone chimney, and 
lighted up the cabin sufficient to read without a can- 
dle, as darkness had now set in. Ned's wife and daugh- 
ter w^ere now busily engaged in getting supper ; they 
had prepared the game which Jane had taken that 
afternoon. The December wind was blowing with 
frightful gusts through the valley of Canopus, and 
whistled around Ned's cabin, whirling the snow, but 
the agent and young Philipse heeded not the storm, for 
they were comfortably quartered. As Ned's wife and 
daughter were preparing the supper, their appetites 
were becoming sharpened. The fire threw out such 
heat that the agent and young Philipse retreated to 
the furtherest side of the cabin. Ned said that he 
would go out to see how the horses fared, and replen- 
ish their racks ; and on returning he said the storm 
was increasing and the snow was falling fast. Supper 



THE squatter's DAUGHTER. Ill 

was now ready, and the guests were soon seated with 
the family around the table. After supper the agent 
informed Ned that he must know something about 
what rent he would be willing to pay, commencing 
with the new year, and at the same time showing him 
a written instrument, which were the laws of the pat- 
entee. Ned handed the paper to his daughter, telling 
her to read it, Jane then read the contents aloud. 
During the reading their observation was fixed on Ned's 
daughter, and they were sui'prised to think that a 
squatter's daughter should possess such advantages 
here in the wilderness, because there were as yet no 
schools on that portion of the patent. Jane then 
informed the agent that her parents came there penni- 
less, and endured incredible hardships to gain a liveli- 
hood, and that her mother and herself had taken their 
turn in the forests, had shouldered the axe and helped 
her father fell the gigantic oaks and hemlocks, and 
remove the rocks and stones and place them in walls ; 
that they had helped him protect his cattle and sheep 
from becoming a prey to the wolves and panthers that 
nightly suiTounded them. They had hewed the logs 
for his cabin, and helped her father haul them to the 
spot and rear his cabin, and now after struggling for 
years to get a comfortable shelter and a few sheep and 
cattle to drive famine from their door, would they be 
so ungenerous as to demand rent in a country where 
the land was covered with rocks and stone. Each 
word took effect, and for some moments not a word 
was spoken. She had resumed her work again in 
clearing the supper table. Her hair, which was long, 
lay in clustering curls over her neck and shoulders, and 



112 THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 

her sleeves were rolled above a pair of arms perfectly 
rounded. The agent said nothing more that evening 
to Ned about paying rent, and the conversation turned 
to other subjects. Ned gave a history of his pioneer 
life, how long he had lived there, and the difficulties 
he had to contend with in that rough country to gain 
a subsistence, and how his wife had emigrated to this 
country with a number of French Huguenots, the 
severe labor his family had undergone, and now he 
was getting things in shape to get a little pay for his 
labor. 

Philip listened very attentively to the agent as they 
talked over the matter ; his eyes were fixed intently 
on the large fire, occasionally casting his eyes at Jane 
and her mother, for the squatter's daughter had made 
an impression which he could not easily forget. The 
manner in which she expressed herself in defending 
her father, in saying that he ought to go rent free, 
how hard they had toiled and helped clear the forests, 
and removed the rocks and stone and reared their cabin, 
made a deep impression on him. It appeared to him 
that she had more than an ordinary mind. The eve- 
ning at length wore away. The agent and Philip oc- 
cupied the bed in the lower part of the cabin, but 
Phihp could not sleep, for the squatter's daughter 
occupied his mind. The December storm was howhng 
around the cabin, but the cold north-easter they did 
not feel. The large fire exhibited nothing now but a 
heap of ashes and embeis, but the room was yet com- 
fortably warm. The long December night was irk- 
some to young Philipse, for he was restless, so much 
so that he disturbed the agent, who asked him if he 



THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 113 

was unwell. He replied no, only lie had no disposi- 
tion to sleep. "That is queer," replied the agent, 
"after a long day's journey without anything to eat 
till night." "True," replied Philip ; "I am sometimes 
afflicted with nervousness after eating a hearty supper, 
which sometimes causes me to be wakeful nights." 

At the dawn, Ned went out to look after the stran- 
gers' horses, while his wife and daughter were pre- 
paring breakfast, which consisted of roast ducks and 
good corn bread. After breakfast young Philipse re- 
quested the agent not to say anything more about 
paying rent, saying he had toiled hard enough to get 
a hving, and as he w^as getting old he had better pass 
him by. This the agent said he was not authorized 
to do. "If he will not pay any rent, I shall have to 
notify him to vacate the premises." Philip remon- 
strated, saying that he himself was one of the lawful 
heirs, and that he was willing that Ned should remain 
there rent free for life. This was the first time young 
Phihpse had dictated to the agent in regard to what 
should be done to those squatters that were located 
on the patent who refused to pay rent. Ned brought 
the horses to the door, and when the agent and young 
PhiHpse were ready to depart, they informed him 
that he would remain there for the present without 
being molested. The same time the squatter's daugh- 
ter listened very attentively to what passed between 
the agent and her father. As the agent and young 
Philipse departed, Philip cast a lingering look at the 
cabin before they plunged in the forests. The valley 
of Canopus presented a wintery appearance, for the 
new fallen snow had w^iitened the summits of the 



114 THE SQUATTEirS DAUGHTER. 

mountains, and loaded tlie tree-tops in the valleys. 
Every bush and sapling bent under its weight, and the 
weather wore a wintry aspect. The agent and young 
Philipse wended their way through the forests, look- 
ing up the next stpiatter. Sometimes the underbrush 
would reach the stirrups of their saddles, again their 
horses would have to pass through deep ravines, where 
there would be small streams to ford, where the ice 
had formed through the night with thickness sufficient 
to hold the weight of their horses ; anon they would 
emerge into an opening where a squatter had erected 
his log house, when they would dismount and tarry a 
while and make known their business ; then they would 
proceed to the next squatter, and so continue until 
they arrived at the end of the patent. Having finished 
their business they proceeded direct to Carmel. 

Then the agent reported to the patentee the situa- 
tion of his patent, the number of inhabitants that had 
squatted upon it without paying rent, and the improve- 
ments they had made and the compensation they would 
receive if they chose to vacate their premises ; they all 
complied with the exception of one, Nazareth Austin, 
w^ho was squatted in Canopus valley, whom he per- 
mitted to remain there for the present, rent free. ^'And 
why exempt him," inquired the patentee. "Through 
the persuasion of your son," answered the agent. "Then 
you have disobeyed my orders." "Yes, but it can be 
easily rectified, if you say so." "But I will consult my 
son, and then inform you what to do." Here the con- 
versation ended, and the patentee wondered what 
object his son could have in granting the privilege to 
one squatter to remain on the patent rent free. Philip 



THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 115 

then informed liis father where Nazareth Austin was 
located in the valley of Canopus, on the roughest sec- 
tion of the patent, how they remained there over night, 
and the history he gave of himself and family in locat- 
ing there, the hardships they had undergone in settling 
the wilderness, the privations and sufferings they sus- 
tained for years, the rocks and stones they had remov- 
ed, and that he had no son, and his wife and only 
daughter each in turn shouldered the axe to help clear 
the forests and rear the stone walls to protect their 
sheep and cattle from straying in the forests and keep 
them safe from beasts of prey ; and his daughter too 
had helped hew the logs with a narrow axe to build 
his cabin, and that now Austin was far advanced in life, 
and soon would be incapacitated for labor, and he 
hoped he would be willing for Austin and his family 
to remain there free of rent for life. Mrs. Austin, 
young Philipse continued, had seen better days, and 
had emigrated to this country with a colony of French 
Huguenots, and had advantages of birth and education 
which she had obtained in Europe, and had been accus- 
tomed to polished society, and now he felt interested 
in the welfare of the family, and he thought they had 
a duty to perform, and that it would be gratifying for 
him to know, in the decline of life, that he had bestow- 
ed charity where it was in reahty needed. The father 
made no reply, but told the agent to make out a deed, 
which was immediately signed by the patentee, for a 
certain number of acres where Austin lived, and young 
Philipse was permitted to present it as a gift to Naza- 
reth Austin. 

The new year liad connnenced, and the month of 



116 THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 

January had passed, and Austin sat with his family in 
his cabin. The snow had covered tlie valley of Cano- 
pus for more than two months, and the wintery blasts 
yet prevailed, with no indication of the breaking up of 
winter. Austin was thinking whether it would be 
better to remain there if the patentee should demand 
rent, or leave. All the squatters that he had heard 
from had concluded to pay rent, or leave in the spring. 
Austin was revolving in his mind what to do if he 
should receive notice to pay rent the ensuing year or 
vacate the premises, when the barking of Pompey 
warned him of the approach of something, and taking 
a lighted candle and opening the door, young Philipse 
on horseback was before him. Austin recognized him 
at once, and asked him to dismount, to which he 
readily assented. Austin soon had his horse in com- 
fortable quarters, and young Phihpse was soon sitting 
in the cabin warming himself before the large fire. 
Philip had rode from Carmel that day, and he felt the 
severity of the cold. Austin's wife and daughter ren- 
dered every assistance in their power to make him 
comfortable. Havhig finished his meal he took a seat 
with Austin in front of the large fire. The conversa- 
tion soon turned to the occupation of the premises 
another year, whether he would be willing to pay rent 
or leave.^ Austin replied that he would be compelled 
to leave unless the rent was very small. Young Phil- 
ipse pulled the deed from his pocket and gave it to 
Austin, who handed it to his daughter to read. Jane 
innnediately read the contents. During the reading 
Philip's eyes were fixed on Austin, who was listening 
with intense interest to his daughter, and when he 



THE squatter's DAUGHTER. 1 J 7 

learned that a deed was presented to him by Phihp's 
father, his joy was unbounded. He could not express 
to Philip the happiness it afforded him, and how grate- 
ful he felt towards the giver ; and he wished that he 
might live to see the day that he would be able to 
repay him. Philip said nothing further on the subject, 
and before an hour had passed away he was busily 
engaged in conversation with the squatter's daughter. 
Presently they were alone in the lower part of the 
cabin, for Austin and his wife had retired for the night. 
Before retiring Austin had taken the precaution to have 
a large supply of wood to replenish the fire when nec- 
essary, and Philip and the squatter's daughter sat there 
alone. Austin's silver watch, w^iich hung up ovei' the 
fire-place, told the hour of twelve, yet young Philipse 
was not disposed to sleep, nor was he tired with the 
fatigue of the day's journey, for he was so deeply inter- 
ested in conversation that time passed away unheeded. 
The night wore along and the hour of two had passed, 
yet Philip liad something to say which he could not 
delay any longer, and then he offered his heart and 
hand to the squatter's daughter, which was readily 
accepted. Philip sat there till the light streaks of day 
were breaking up the dark clouds in the east, and Aus- 
tin was up seeing to his horse and foddering the sheep 
and cattle. After breakfast Philip reminded Austin of 
the remark that he made last evening, how grateful he 
felt toward his father for presenting to him a deed for 
this farm, and he hoped he would live to see the day 
that he could bestow so great a favor ; and now he had 
it in his power to return it to his son. "How I" inquir- 
ed Austin. "Give me your daughter in marriage," said 



lis THE SQUATTER^S DAUGHTER. 

Philip. "Yes," said Austin, "and this aftbrds to me 
more happiness, if possible, than the deed you presen- 
ted to me last evening." 

When Mrs. Austin learned that the young patentee 
had offered himself to her daughter in marriage, she 
could hardly realize it, and she learned from her hus- 
band too that Philip intended to take her immediately 
to Carmel, and Austin and Philip soon were construct- 
ing a sledge for that purpose sufficient to hold two 
persons. Having finished it, Philip attached his horse 
to the sledge, and Jane, bidding her parents ftirewell, 
they set out direct for Carmel. On arriving home, 
Philip introduced Jane Austin to his parents as his 
betrothed wife. His father was thunderstruck, and 
was greatly incensed against his son for some time, but 
having learned the history of Mrs, Austin, that she fled 
from her own country from persecution with a colony 
of French Huguenots, and that she belonged to some 
of the first families of France, and had come to this 
country to enjoy her religious freedom, and that, too, 
she had had the advantages of birth and education, 
which few in this country enjoyed, he at last made no 
objection to the marriage. A few months elapsed 
before the squatter's daughter became the wife of the 
young patentee. Shortly after their marriage, Austin's 
death took place, and Mrs. Austin left her log cabin 
and went to live with her daughter, who then was 
beautifully located on the patent, hving in affluence 
and enjoying all the luxuries a new country afibrded. 



THE HAUNTED TAVERN, AND 

WITCHCRAFT IN NEW 

HACKENSACK. 

THE HAUNTED TAVEEN. 

Ill the town of East Fishkill stands an old dilapida- 
ted dwelliiig-lioiise, known in the early history of our 
county as the Haunted Tavern. It is an ancient struc- 
ture, built more than a century and a quarter ago, and 
now has the appearance of great antiquity. This 
house would hardly arrest the attention of tlie passer- 
by, for there is nothing attractive to the stranger or 
tourist. The old sloping roof, the huge collar-beams, 
and oaken rafters, have not been molested, and. the 
same covering and weather-beaten siding, have with- 
stood the storms and winds of more than a hundred 
winters ; but the tradition which has been handed 
down to us of robbery and murder perpetrated there, 
if true, would awaken in the nihid scenes that would 
startle every reader of this narrative, and cause a shud- 
der that would fill the very fibres of the soul. The old 
house was first occupied as a tavern, and dates back 
to the first settlement of the town. Then there were 
no thoroughfares like those of the present day, and in 



120 THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 

every neighborhood the pioneers would collect in cer- 
tain localities, where there was a tavern, and spend 
their leisure hours in taking a social glass, playing at 
cards, and in other amusements. This old tavern was 
the headquarters of the people of the surrounding 
country, where the early settlers would congregate on 
training and holidays, particularly Christmas and New 
Year, and would have what then was called "shooting 
matches," which consisted of different varieties of })Oul- 
try, such as turkeys, ducks, geese, and domestic fowls, 
being set up as a mark to be shot at. The owners 
charged a groat for the privilege of shooting once, and 
the first blood that was drawn from the bird by the 
marksmen, won the prize. The highway in front of 
the tavern was straight and level for a mile, and this 
was the great race course for the pioneers to try the 
speed of their horses. The landlord was a very penu- 
rious man, and his object was to make all the money 
he could out of his customers. If an exciting horse 
race was to come off", he provided for the occasion. His 
bar was well stocked with liquors, and meals were 
served, and often many imbibed freely at the bar. A 
large collection of people could be seen along the high- 
way where the horses were brought out, standing in 
groups, or sitting on the road fence, anxioush^ waiting 
for them to start, and a number of small bets were fre- 
quently made in what in those days were called "treats," 
on which horse would be the winner, and the loser 
would pay at the bar. No temperance societies then 
existed, and prohibition was unknown ; the use of 
intoxicating drinks was the prevailing custom of the 
country, but the reader must not infer from this that 



THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 1"21 

all were intemperate, far from it. There were those 
who were never under the influence of ardent spirits, 
but occasionally took a glass. 

The old tavern was located some distance from the 
nearest settler, remote from any village, surrounded 
with forests dark and dense, and if a traveler was over- 
taken there by night or weather bound, the landlord 
would extort all the money he could out of him. When 
our country was new, traveling was difficult ; the util- 
ity of steam for propelHng vessels had not been discov- 
ered, and steamboats and railroads were not known, 
and the traveling through the country was by a lum- 
bering stage-coach or in a private conveyance over 
roads that were rough and uneven, consequent!}^ the 
traveler made slow progress, and taverns were more or 
less benefited and the business lucrative. This old 
tavern had its share of business, but startling stories at 
length were circulated throughout the settlement about 
the landlord — that travelers were often robbed when 
remaining there over night, and that the landlord always 
managed to escape detection, denying any knowledge 
of theft being committed in his house. Many believed 
that he had large sums of money buried in his cellar, 
others said when frequenting the tavern unexpectedly, 
they saw piles of johannas, pistoles, doubloons, and 
crowns, which then was the currency of the country. 
But notwithstanding the stories that were current 
about the country, that the landlord would rob and 
cheat, he paid strict attention to his business. He 
encouraged horse racing and card playing, and those 
who were habitual visitors at his tavern left all their 
money there. But eventuallv the landlord was in real- 



12-2 THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 

ity ricli ; whether he made liis money by foul means 
or out of his business, the community were divided. 

A story was circulated throughout the country, that 
a peddler with a pack was traveling on foot, and night 
had overtaken him at the old tavern. It was in the 
month of Decembei-, and a severe storm of rain, sleet, 
and hail, had set in, and the night was dark and gloomy. 
So unpleasant was the weather that what few there 
were at the tavern, left early for feai- they would not 
be able to reach their home, and before nine o'clock no 
one occupied the bar-room but the landlord and the 
peddler. The following morning the storm was una- 
bated, and so dreary was the weather that none ven- 
tured to the tavern for several days, and when the 
storm had subsided, the peddler was almost forgotten. 
One or two persons appeared to recollect a peddler 
stopping there the night the storm commenced, but all 
traces of him had disappeared. Fearful stories were 
told that the peddler never left the tavern, and strong 
suspicions against the landlord were indulged in, that 
the peddler was murdered in his tavern. Others again 
doubted, and the landlord appeared ignorant of what 
was said against him. Stories like those related, would 
form the gossip of the surrounding country during the 
long winter evenings, and cliildren woidd listen to 
their parents for hours, telling them stories of robbery 
and murder perpetrated there, and that his accomplices 
in those deeds of horror were the inmates of his tavern, 
consisting of his wife and domestics, who carefully con- 
cealed their guilt. It was said that there were secret 
rooms in the tavern, where none were idlowed to enter, 
and if a traveler stayed there over night, who was 



THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 123 

unacquainted with any one, the landlord would con- 
duct him to one of those secret rooms to lodge for the 
night, and those rooms were tlie theatre of atrocious 
crimes perpetrated on such, whicli, if true, would make 
humanity shudder, but as nothing definite was known, 
the landlord lived there the remainder of his days, and 
there we leave him. 

Whether the stories above related about robberies 
and murders, perpetrated in the tavern, were true, I 
know not, we leave the reader to judge. After the 
death of the landlord, many believed that he had bur- 
ied large sums of money in the cellar or somewhere on 
the premises, but the difficulty was to find it, and so 
superstitious were many at that time, that they believ- 
ed if they should dig for the hidden treasure, the ghost 
of the old landlord would appear, for they believed the 
old tavern was haunted. After the death of the land- 
lord, the tavern was unoccupied for some time, and a 
story was told of some one passing it in the night, who 
saw the landlord in the bar-room, holding a light and 
looking out of the window, and he knowing that the 
tavern was vacated, and no one had lived there since 
his death, became so frightened that he put his horses 
to the top of their speed, and the noise of his old wag- 
on reverberated through the neighboring woods, and 
might have been heard for a mile. But the desire to 
obtain the money that was believed to be buried in 
the cellar of the old tavern, overcame the fear of some 
of the most courageous, and accordingly two men who 
professed not to be afraid of anything, neither ghosts 
nor witches, not even the old Nick himself, determined 
at all liazards to make the attempt to get the hidden 



124 THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 

treasure. Squires and Payne, for those were their 
names, who had been good customers of the old land- 
lord when he was aUve, thinking he had got then- 
money wrongfully when they were a little under the 
influence of liquor, while sitting in the bar-room, 
thought that a tine opportunity to get some of it back. 
These two men lived near neighbors, their farms jom- 
ing. They possessed rough exteriors, hke all pioneers 
in the wilderness, and it is not until sucli men level 
the forests, open roads, bridge the streams, and erect 
comfortable dweUings, that a new country is a fit hab- 
itation for the more refined. They were accustomed 
to toil and the use of ardent spirits, which they thought 
was necessary to enable them to endure the hardships 
of setthng a new country. 

Squires and Payne would meet in a secluded place, 
and talk over their plans how to get access to the old 
tavern. They carefully concealed their design, and a 
dark night was selected to carry it out. They provid- 
ed themselves with everything necessary, their tools 
consisting of a shovel and spade, a pickaxe, two tallow 
candles, an iron candlestick, a tinder-box filled with 
finder, a flint and steel, which was the ancient method 
of striking fire, and when the appointed night arrived 
as soon as darkness set in, shouldered then tools and 
wended their way to the old tavern, where they arriv- 
ed near midnight. They had provided themselves 
with a flask of hquor to cheer them in their labor and 
drive away fear. The old tavern looked deserted, par- 
ticularly at the dread hour of midnight, for no human 
being had entered it since the landlord's death, and 
Payne and Squires began to think of the story their 



THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 125 

neighbor told of seeing a light in the bar-room, and 
the landlord standing near the window, while he was 
riding past there in the night, but they thought it was 
no time now to think of ghosts. Squires took the 
flask from his pocket, and drank off some of its con- 
tents, and then handed it to Payne, who partook free- 
ly of its potations, and then they commenced opera- 
tions. They found but little difficulty in gaining an 
entrance through a window. After this was accom- 
plished they struck a Hght with their flint and steel, 
which emitted sparks of fire in the tinder box, which 
adhered to the tinder, and then Squires lighted their 
tallow candle, which they put into the iron candle- 
stick. They picked up their tools and proceeded care- 
fully to the cellar, where they believed the money was 
buried. Squires already began to quake with fear, 
although he had boasted of his courage before leaving 
home, saying that he cared not if the ghost of the old 
landlord did appear, the money they were bound to 
have, and no ghost, no, not even Satan himself, could 
frighten him. Payne, too, possessed courage before he 
left home, but fear began to take hold of him ; but 
taking another draught from their flasks they oft' with 
their coats, and seizing their shovels and pickaxe, they 
commenced digging. The old tallow candle threw 
out a flickering light as they plied themselves to their 
work, and stimulated witli tlie hope of finding money 
they indulged in little or no conversation. The old 
cellar walls, and the huge timbers that supported the 
building, and the doleful looking surroundings of the 
cellar, added to the dark and dreary hour of midnight, 
created in Payne and Squires fears which can bet- 



126 THK HAUNTED TAVERN. 

ter be imagined than described. Presently Squires 
remarked that he heard the noise of footsteps in the 
bar-room overhead. Payne replied in the affirmative, 
and inquired what can the noise proceed from. Squires 
replied if the ghost of the old landlord or the old Nick 
was coming they would not scare him, if the money 
was buried there, he was determined to dig till they 
sliould find it, altliough both were terribly frightened, 
when Payne was so overcome with fear that he drop- 
ped his shovel and started on a run for the cellar stairs, 
saying that the landlord or the devil was standing in 
the corner behind him. Squires never stopped to look, 
})ut dropping his pickaxe, he scrambled up the stairs 
after his companion. In the confusion they knocked 
over the old iron candlestick and extinguished the light ; 
leaving their coats and tools in the cellar, they groped 
through the dark passages, sometimes striking them- 
selves violently against the door-posts as they emerged 
from room to room, half frightened out of their wits. 
They at last succeeded in finding the entrance, and 
imagining that a ghost was close to their heels, they 
plunged headlong out of tlie window. They lost no 
time in trying their speed, and reached their homes 
completely exhausted. After Squires and Payne had 
I'ecovered from their fright, which took several days, 
and suffering from severe bruises which they received 
in making their hasty flight from the old tavern, they 
now concluded to keep their adventure there a secret. 
Payne probably saw no ghosts when he was digging 
for money in the cellar of the old tavern, but his imag- 
ination was so powerfully wrought upon, from his 
superstitious belief in ghosts, that he imagined he saw 



THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 127 

something in a corner of the ceUar when digging. 
Squires and Payne had left all their tools in the old 
tavern cellar, and how to get them they did not know, 
for they had not the courage to go to the tavern after 
this event, so they concluded to keep quiet at home. 
The following Spring the old tavern, including two 
hundred acres of land, was rented to a man whose 
name was Dundee, who came from Long Island, who 
on examining the house discovered that an excavation 
had been made in the cellar and the tools which had 
been used to open the excavation were left by parties 
who, to all appearance, had fled precipitately. He 
discovered an iron candlestick with a tallow candle 
partially consumed, a tinder-box, one shovel, a pickaxe 
and spade, two coats, one containing a flask of liquor, 
&c. Dundee wondered what object could have induc- 
ed any one to make this excavation, but on hearing 
that the former occupant had, as many believed, buried 
money there, he concluded that some one had made 
the attempt to find it. But who could the parties be, 
thought he. The tallow candle, which was partiall}^ 
consumed, led him to believe that the eartli had been 
removed in the night ; but when he was informed that 
probably robbery and murder had been perpetrated in 
the house, he thought that the landlord might have 
removed the earth with the intention of burying money, 
or it may be some one that had been murdered, he was 
at a loss to conjecture. If he should undertake to dig 
for money, he might find instead of money, some one 
that had been buried there, and that would alarm him, 
and rather than run the risk of getting money by this 
method, he concluded to fill up the excavation. But 



12S THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 

Dundee had been informed tliat the house was haunt- 
ed ; he occupied it as a fimn-liouse ; he was a firm 
believer in ghosts and witches ; under circumstances 
like these we should imagine he could see a ghost or a 
witch very easily. He would vacate the premises at 
once, but he liad just begun to occupy them, and it 
was the first of April, and the season for commencing 
farming had now arrived, and it was too late in the 
season to look for another farm, and if he should it 
would be very difiicult to find one, and he conchided 
to remain there for a year, and say nothing to his fiini- 
ily respecting his fears, not wishing to alarm them ; for 
if he communicated to them that the house was haunt- 
ed, he would have to vacate the premises at once. 
This would subject him to great inconvenience, as 
there was no farm far or near that he could rent. The 
form he occupied was owned by one of the patentees, 
which included the Beekman and Rombout purchases. 
His rent was small, only forty skipples of wheat a year 
—a Dutch measure containing three pecks— and he 
concluded to commence farming immediately, not 
deeming it prudent to dig for money, nor allow any 
one to search for the hidden treasure, believing that 
ghosts would appear whether any money was found or 
not. Stories of robbery and murder were often the 
conversation in the neighborhood, believed to have 
been perpetrated in the old tavern, when occupied by 
the landlord, and that money was buried in the cellar 
or on the premises, but Dundee strictly forbid any 
search to be made, and the stories that were related 
about seeing ghosts, he feigned not to beheve. 

A century and a quarter ago, when this old tavern 



THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 129 

was occupied by the landlord, mankind was supersti- 
tious, education was confined to the few, and witch- 
craft was more or less believed in, and sometimes the 
delusion broke out in communities. In 1690 it spread 
to such an alarming extent in Salem, Massachusetts, 
that nineteen were executed, and hundreds imprisoned. 
In Boston, Springfield, Charlestown, and Dorchester, 
many were executed, merely for being suspected of 
witchcraft. Even in England, the learned men in that 
time believed in witchcraft. The learned Baxter, who 
flourished then in England, where the same notions on 
witchcraft prevailed, pronounced the unbeliever in 
witchcraft an obdurate Sadducee, and Sir Matthew 
Hale, one of the brightest ornaments of the English 
bench, repeatedly tried and condemned those as crimi- 
nals who were accused of witchcraft. The human 
mind is prone to superstition, and it more or less pre- 
vailed in every 
itr 

upon which divine revelation had shed its light, the 
learned as well as the unlearned, were subject to the 
prevailing power of popular delusion, and the code of 
laws framed in Hartford, Windsor, and Wethersfield, 
in Connecticut, reads, as may be seen at the present 
day : "If any man or woman bee a witch, that is, hath 
or consulteth with a familiar spirritt, they shall bee put 
to death." The Rev. John Brown, one of the greatest 
divines of the age, who lived as late as 1787, says : "A 
witch is a woman, and a wizard is a man, that has 
dealings with Satan, if not actually entered into formal 
compact with him. That such persons are among 
men, is abundantly plain from Scripture, and that they 



130 THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 

ought to be put to death." He then quotes passages 
from Scripture : Deuteronomy, 18th chapter, 10th 
verse, and Exodus, 22d chapter, 18th verse. He then 
proceeded to say : "It is plain, however, that great 
caution is necessary in detecting and punishing the 
guilty, lest the innocent suffer, as many instances in 
New England and other places show. To me it 
appears obvious that for one to regard with anything 
like fear, persons suspected of this infernal power, is 
nothing less than indirectly rendering homage to Satan." 
Thus, we think we have shown sufficient proof that in 
the most enlightened countries they believed in witch- 
craft less than a century ago. Can w^e wonder then 
that stories of ghosts even in the haunted tavern, as 
related in this narrative, were believed in f 

Dundee pursued his vocation, mingling little with 
society, and whatever he heard respecting ghosts being 
seen in his house while unoccupied, after the landlord's 
death, he said nothing. He had resided there about 
three months and had not seen anything to create in 
him any fear, and he concluded that the stories of rob- 
bery and nmrder perpetrated there were more or less 
exaggerated. Squires and Payne, who figured so con- 
spicuously in this story, expected to hear some start- 
ling news from Dundee before this, that he had found 
some of the landlord's money secreted somewhere, or 
some ghost had appeared to him or his family, but not 
hearing of any such thing, they concluded to pay him 
a visit. They set out one morning for that purpose, 
and soon arrived at Dundee's, They found him in his 
barn busily employed unloading hay from off his cart 
and placing it in the mow. They introduced them- 



THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 131 

selves, and then explained the object of their visit, say- 
ing they expected to hear of his finding money ere this, 
as the house he had rented was occupied as a tavern 
for many years prior to his renting the premises, and 
the landlord was very penurious and his business lucra- 
tive, and it was believed he had buried large sums of 
money in the cellar or somewhere about the place, for 
they said that no doubt he had often robbed travelers 
when they put up there for the night, and stories, too, 
were circulated that murder had been perpetrated 
there. Dundee replied that he had not attempted to 
dig for money, nor allowed any one to search the 
premises, believing if he should allow any digging, they 
might find, instead of money, some one buried, and 
that would frighten his family, and he would have to 
vacate the fiym at once. Dundee informed Squires 
and Payne that when he came there last Spring, he 
discovered an excavation that had been made in the 
cellar, and that he had made enquiries respecting who 
the parties were, but was unable to obtain any infor- 
mation, and the tools were left, and it appeared to him 
they must have been terribly frightened. The tools, 
lie said, he had not used, and they were in the barn, 
at the same time showing them to his visitors, who 
saw their coats, one containing the flask of liquor ; 
also their shovel, pickaxe and spade, the old iron can- 
dlestick, and tinder-box. Payne and Squires feigned 
ignorance as to how the tools came in the cellar of the 
old tavern, and carefully kept to themselves their 
adventure. Payne and Squires would not claim their 
property ; choosing rather to lose it than let Dundee 
know they were the identical persons that owned the 



132 THE HAUNTED TAVERN. 

coats and tools, and had made the excavation in the 
cellar of his honse, and as Dundee had informed them 
that he would not allow any digging on his premises 
for money or anything else, they left for their homes 
rather disappointed. Dundee lived on the old tavern 
farm one year, and not seeing anything nor hearing of 
any ghosts, he leased the farm for a number of years, 
and lived there quiet till his death, without being 
alarmed about seeing any ghosts. The stories of the 
old tavern being haunted gradually died away, and the 
recollection of its early history as "The Haunted Tav- 
ern," is at the present day almost entirely forgotten. 



WITCHCEAFT IN NEW HACKENSACK. 

In 1786 witchcraft broke out in an adjacent neigh- 
borhood, in a family who then resided in New Hack- 
ensack, one of the most influential and wealthy in the 
town, living in a brick mansion known as the residence 
of Doctor Stephen Thorne. In the gable of the man- 
sion was the name of the owner in large letters, and 
the date of its erection. The Doctor and his wife, and 
one or two of the older children, were on a visit to a 
neighbor, leaving the smaller children home in charge 
of a domestic, who went to the cellar about eight 
o'clock, accompanied by one of the members of the 
family, a girl of fourteen years of age, to get a bowl of 
apples and some walnuts. While the domestic was 



WITCHCRAFT IN NEW HACKENSACK. 133 

filling a small basket with walnuts, a fearful knocking 
commenced close by her, and so frightened were they, 
that both ran with all haste up the cellar stairs, the 
knockings following the domestic. The alarm increas- 
ed, for the knockiugs continued in rapid succession. 
When the Doctor arrived, he found his family in the 
wildest state of excitement, and all were weeping. 
After enquiring the cause, he quickly perceived that 
a knocking was distinctly heard beneath the floor 
where the girl stood. The Doctor supposed that he 
could soon explain the cause, believing that some trick 
was performed by some person or persons, merely for 
amusement. He examined every room in the house. 
If he stood close by the girl, the knockings appeared 
beneath the floor ; if he went into a lower room, the 
knockings sounded from above ; if he went in an upper 
room, the knockings were distinctly heard below. The 
Doctor was not frightened, for he was one of the most 
eminent physicians of the age, and he had great exper- 
ience in his practice and intercourse with mankind, but 
still he could not divine the cause, and he finally told 
her to retire for the night. The knockings followed 
her to her bedroom, and continued without intermis- 
sion on the headboard where she lay. That night 
brought no sleep to the Doctor and his family, and 
the following morning the news spread rapidly through 
the neighborhood, that strange knockings were heard 
continually in the house of Doctor Thorne, following 
his domestic wherever she went, day and night. Hun- 
dreds came to see and hear, and were satisfied that it 
was not the work of man ; that no stratagem of his 
could produce what they saw and heard. The news 



134 • WITCHCRAFT IN NE\Y HACKENSACK. 

soon spread over the whole country, far and near, and 
it attracted the attention of learned men. 

A number came from Ponghkeepsie, New York, 
Philadelphia, and the New England States. These 
men tried to solve the problem. They placed her in 
different positions, sometimes sitting her on a timber, 
held by two persons, several feet from the earth; the 
knockings then sonnded from the timber. Not only 
were the knockings continually sounding wherever 
the girl went, but the knives and forks would fly from 
her hands when she partook of her food, and furniture, 
such as chairs, would overturn when she had occasion 
to take hold of them, and tables would move from her. 
It a person sat close beside her, on a chair, the chair 
would shove from her. In one instance the grandfather 
of the writer of this article, who then lived in the 
neighborhood, whose weight was two hundred pounds, 
took a seat close to her, and his chair immediately 
shoved away. Curiosity became excited, and editors 
of leading journals, few in number in those days, pub- 
Hshed accounts of this remarkable case in their news- 
papers, which created intense excitement. The New 
York Mercury of that day, noted at some length this 
mysterious affair, from which we had intended to take 
a few extracts, but at the present writing we are 
unable to lay our hands on the paper, but all came to 
the conclusion that it was either witchcraft or some 
mystery which they could not explain. The Doctor 
was obliged to seek relief from his numerous visitors, 
and the writer's gi'andfather kindly volunteered to take 
the girl into his own house, and he distinctly recollects 
hearing his father, who was then a boy some twelve 



o 



WITCHCRAFT IN NEW HACKENSACK. 135 

years of age, say that he had sat for hours beside the 
cot on which the girl rested, with his hand on her fore- 
head, in order that she might sleep. The moment he 
placed his hand on her forehead, the knockings would 
cease, but the moment his hand was removed, the raps 
would be resumed on the headboard, and what added 
singularity to the case, he was the only person who 
could exercise the influence. Finally she went to hve 
with a relative, the knockings followed, but eventually 
they became less frequent, and not so loud, and at last 
they ceased entirely. Some years after this event, the 
girl paid a visit to Dr. Thome's, and was received 
kindly at his house. When she left, the Doctor lost a 
fine cow. Soon after she visited him again, and when 
she left he lost another cow. She then paid him a 
third visit. The doctor's son owned a fine colt, which 
he thought a great deal of, and when the girl left, his 
colt was taken sick and died. The doctor's son was 
enraged, and said she must not enter there again ; if 
she paid them another visit he would show her the 
door. His father tried to convince him that such losses 
would occur, and probably they w^ould have lost their 
cows and colt if the girl had never paid them a visit, 
but his son would not believe him, and he was deter- 
mined to keep his resolution ; but the girl never came 
there afterward. 

These facts have been ccdlected by research, and 
they may help fill up a vacuum in the history of our 
county. I would say in my closing, that I am proud 
of being a descendant of one of the families who first 
settled the original town of Fishkill; the first settle- 
ment in the county began in that town. Their names 



136 



WITCHCRAFT IN NEW HACKENSACK. 



will be remembered long after the history of our county 
shall have been published, and their last resting places 
overlooked and forgotten. Our county has had her 
superstitions, and I would ask what country is exempt? 
Then let us draw a vail of filial affection over the de- 
lusions of our forefathers, for they have all passed 
away, and a brighter day has dawned on the whole 
civilized world. 




THE BROKEN-HEARTED. 

The scenery of the Highlands is very rich and sub- 
limely beautiful. The mountains^ mantled with ever- 
greens, the rivulets dashing playfully down in cascades, 
entice, with resistless temptation, the attention, and 
excite the admiration of the beholder. The noble 
Hudson, winding its way through the mountains, 
whose projecting peaks peer thousands of feet above 
it ; here and there waves the hemlock, in solitary, yet 
princely splendor ; the huge pine, whose limbs have 
nodded to the winds of an hundred winters, proud of 
age, in the grandeur of its own sombre hue, change- 
less and eternal ; the deep valleys, almost encircled by 
high and continuous ranges of hills, covered with the 
deep colored and exuberant foliage of the forest. 

Just north of the Highlands, more than forty years 
ago, not far from the banks of the noble Hudson, stood 
a handsome country seat. Its situation was on an emi- 
nence commanding a beautiful view on every side. To 
the south the eye could rest with dehght on the blue 
tops of the Fishkill Mountains, peering one above 
another in emulous strife, and to the north for many 
miles the beautiful river could be seen winding its way 
through the country, covered with vessels, which 
floated like motes in the sunbeam. In the east could 



138 THE BROKEN HEARTED. 

be seen the sloping and still extended valley and Mat- 
teawan creek, washing the mountain at its base, to the 
beautiful village of Fishkili, then the largest in the 
town. Art had not been wanting in garnishing the 
exterior with every decoration w^hich could render it 
handsome. The observer would at once conclude that 
its inhabitants were of no small importance in the com- 
munity, nor wanting in this world's wealth. It was 
the mansion of Mrs. S., a widow of forty. Her hus- 
band had fallen a victim to that most fearful scourge, 
the yellow fever, in 1822, while in the city of New 
York on business, leaving his wife and only daughter 
to the care of a kind Providence, and the inheritance 
of his vast w^ealth. This sudden bereavement afflicted 
her heart severely, and for months she abandoned her- 
self to sorrow and grief. As these wore off, her affec- 
tions intuitively ftistened themselves upon her child 
with greater tenacity, and she devoted all her care and 
attention to the idol of her soul. Under the auspices 
of her kind parent, Cordelia grew up a lovely and 
accompHshed girl, and was admired by all w^ho knew 
her. 

As Mrs. S. washed to spare no pains to educate her 
daughter, she accompanied her to the city of New York 
to complete her education, and procured board in 
State street, which was then one of the most flishiona- 
ble streets in the city, the w^ealth and fashion of New 
York then being below the Park. Broadway, Green- 
wich and State streets were among the leading in the 
city, and the Battery formed the principal place of 
resort. Mrs. S.'s boarding house was so situated as to 
have a commanding view of the Battery and Bay, and 



THE BROKEN HEARTED. 139 

every pleasant evening Cordelia and herself would 
walk on the battery, and sometimes up Broadway as 
far as Trinity Church. During these walks they would 
meet the most gay and fashionable people in the city, 
and Cordelia, then in the bloom and beauty of youth, 
intelligent, educated and handsome, her hair a sunny 
brown, and falling in luxuriant ringlets over her grace- 
ful neck, often attracted the attention of the passer by. 

One fine afternoon in September, Cordelia took a 
walk alone on the Battery. It was one of those pleas- 
ant days that often occur at that season of the year. 
The air was balmy, and the beautiful Bay was covered 
with ships, steamboats, and small vessels, plowing their 
way through the water, and dashing the silvery spray 
upward, as they moved gracefully to and fro. The tall 
masts, with their snowy canvass, were waving to the 
breeze, and glistening in the sunbeams. Cordelia stood 
close to the iron railing, looking out upon the Bay, and 
admiring the sparkling craft dancing upon the water, 
when a richly dressed young man, who had been stand- 
ing unnoticed near her for some time, introduced him- 
self to her by saying that "he had been viewing the 
scenery for hours ; that he had traveled in foreign 
lands ; had seen the Bay of Naples, and had sailed in 
Dublin Harbor, but he thought New York Bay, and 
the surrounding scenery of Long Island, vStaten Island, 
New Jersey, and islands in the harbor, with the num- 
erous ships, steamboats, and smaller vessels that were 
constantly departing from the port, presented a scene 
more beautiful than he had ever witnessed abroad." 

The sudden interview with the stranger drew from 
her a look of surprise, and for a moment she was 



140 THE BROKEN HEARTED. 



agitated, and betrayed considerable emotion, but recov- 
ering herself, she mildly replied "that she had been 
admiring the scenery so intensely for some time, that 
she was unconscious of aught that was passing around 
her." 

The stranger was the son of one of the wealthiest 
merchants in the city. He had been to Europe, and 
had but recently returned, and had come out on the 
Battery that afternoon to spend a few hours pleasant- 
ly, when he saw Cordeha, and as he gazed at her when 
she was looking out on the Bay, admiring her glossy 
htiir, wliich flowed in ringlets over her neck and shoul- 
ders, he ventured to address her, and her mild reply 
made an indehble impression on his heart. Cordeha 
immediately retraced her steps to her boarding house, 
and hurriedly threw off her hat, for the manner of the 
stranger who had so unexpectedly addressed her, had 
awakened emotions which she could hardly suppress. 
This was perceived by her mother, who inquired if 
anything had befallen her. Cordelia made no reply, 
but immediately left the room to evade an answer. 

The young man eyed her with intense interest as 
he saw her leave, and following at a distance, unper- 
ceived by Cordeha, he saw her enter her boarding 
house, and then taking a pencil and a piece of paper 
from his pocket, he noted down the number, and then 
returned to his home, which was located on the west 
side of Broadway, near the Battery. There, alone in 
his room, his mind reverted to the place where he had 
seen the beautiful girl. He drew the paper from his 
pocket, looked at the number, and then walked the 
room in deep meditation, his mind fastened on her who 



THE BROKEN HEARTED. 141 

was now the object of his affections. He cast his eye 
out of the window that looked into State street, for he 
thought with the aid of his glass he could see the 
number; but in this he was mistaken, for State street 
is shaped like a bended bow, and Cordelia's house was 
located beyond the curve. He seated himself in a 
chair, and burying his face in his hands became ab- 
sorbed in deep thought. He was the son of wealthy 
parents, and now he was unhappy, for the young lady 
whom he had seen on the Battery having left him so 
abruptly, he thought he had done wrong in introduc- 
ing himself to her; but he thought if he could be 
united to her for life, he would be perfectly happy. 
The young man was dissipated, and his parents, to 
reform him, sent him on a tour to Europe, hoping it 
would benefit him, but on his return he soon became 
associated with his old companions, and every evening 
he would join them in their places of resort, and return 
home in a state of intoxication. But now he had 
formed the resolution to spend his evenings at home, 
abandon his old associates, reform his habits and live 
a temperate life. The following evening he remained 
at home, and his old companions in guilt met as usual, 
but one of their number was absent, and they thought 
he had drank to excess the night previous. But when 
they met the second night and found their companion 
still absent, they supposed him sick, and the following 
day one of his old comrades met him in the street, and 
thus accosted him : 

"Why have you not been with us these two eve- 
nings ?" 

He rephed that he intended to lead a different life, 



142 THE BROKEN HEARTED. 

and (lissiptite no longer, and that he would meet with 
them no more. His old friend tried to dissuade him 
from his purpose, but it was useless, and they depart- 
ed. When the club met again tliey were informed of 
his decision. 

William now spent his evenings at liome, to the sur- 
prise and joy of his parents, and every pleasant after- 
noon he would take a walk on the Battery, casting a 
wistful look in State street, as he walked leisurely to 
and fro. Occasionally he would look out on the Bay, 
but the scenery had lost all of its former attractiveness. 
He often looked at the multitude of people that were 
constantly passing and 'repassing, hoping that he might 
meet the beautiful girl again, but all efforts to see her 
were unavailing. He took the note from his pocket, 
and looked at the numbei-. He could not be mistaken, 
and knowing no person residing there, he hoped to 
meet her again on tlie Battery, but in this he was dis- 
appointed. Weeks had now rolled away, but he could 
neither see nor hear of her. He smothered his feelings, 
and said to himself, ''Must I lose her forever — must I 
return to my dissipated habits, mingle with my old 
associates, and die a drunkard ?" Such were the 
thoughts that occupied his mind. 

The interview between Cordelia and the young man 
alluded to had taken place on the last day that her 
mother and herself were to remain in the city, and the 
following morning they took passage on board the 
steamboat for home. After remaining there for sever- 
al weeks, her teacher wrote a letter informing her that 
she would be very happy to have her spend a few days 
with her. With the consent of her mother, Cordeha 



THE BROKEN HEARTED. 143 

set out alone, by steamboat, for New York. On her 
arrival she was received by her teacher, and was soon 
safe in her old boarding honse in State street. 

William continued his promenades on the Battery, 
every pleasant afternoon and evening, wondering what 
had become of the lovely girl, and while pondering the 
subject in his mind one day, to his great suq^rise he 
met Cordelia. So sudden and unexpected was it to 
him, that he betrayed considerable emotion, and Cor- 
deha was no less agitated and confused. It was late 
in Autumn, and the Indian Summer lay quietly slum- 
bering over the landscape, and the red sun was just 
dipping its weary form in its western grave, and its 
rays tinged the top of the tall trees on the Battery and 
reflected brightly their scarlet leaves. William intro- 
duced himself by saying that he remembered speaking 
to her some time ago when walking on the Battery, 
and asking her at the same time if she recognized him. 
Cordelia replied in the affirmative, and taking his arm, 
they leisurely walked till they came to a resting-place, 
when they sat down together. WiHiam remarked that 
he was in the habit of spending an liour or more on 
the Battery every pleasant afternoon, and as he had 
not met with her, he supposed that she seldom walked 
out. Cordelia replied that she did not live in the city, 
that her residence was on the Hudson river, near P'ish- 
kill Landing, and that she had recently been boarding 
in State street with her mother, and attending school. 
After completing her studies they returned home, and 
only a few weeks had elapsed, when she received a 
letter from Miss A., in State street, saying that she 
would be pleased if she could make her a visit, and 



144 THE BROKEN HEARTED. 

with her mother's permission slie set out alone for New 
York, and arrived the day before, and as the afternoon 
was so very pleasant she thought she would take a 
walk on the Battery, and on the following Saturday 
she intended returning home. William listened atten- 
tively to the young lady, as she explained to him the 
reason he had not seen her since their first interview 
on the Battery. They remained there for some time 
in close conversation, and time passed away so pleas- 
antly that the shades of evening began to thicken 
before Cordelia was aware it was so late, when she 
remarked that she must leave him, for she had prom- 
ised Miss A. that she would return before sunset, and 
that she had staid longer than she intended. William 
accompanied her to Miss A.'s, and before leaving her 
remarked that as she intended leaving the city on Sat- 
urday for home, he would be very much pleased to 
accompany her. Cordelia replied that it would also 
afford her much pleasure, and accepted the offer. Wil- 
ham went home with a buoyant heart, such as one 
feels when leaving the object of his love. After Cor- 
delia left the young man, she began to reflect on what 
she had been doing. She had consented for William 
to wait on her home without her knowing anything 
about him further than his own statement. He had 
informed her that he was the son of a wealthy mer- 
chant living in Broadway, and doing business in Peai'l 
street, and she thought she had been imprudent in 
accepting his offer. Yet she admired him, yes, loved 
him, and if he had an unblemished reputation, she 
would be happy in receiving him, and she was fearful, 
too, of introducing a stranger to her mother, and one 



THE BROKEN HEARTED. 145 

with whom she had had so short an acquaintance. 
Such thoughts occupied her mind during the few short 
days that she remained in the city. But the hour 
arrived. William, with a carriage, awaited her in 
State street, and they were soon aboard the steam- 
boat sailing up the majestic Hudson. 

It was a beautiful morning and the rays of the sun 
gilded the domes and spires that loomed up over the 
city, and it presented a beautiful prospect to the trav- 
ellers, as the steamer ploughed her way through the 
water. Steamboats then did not sail as fast as at the 
present day, and tliey were usually six hours in sail- 
ing from New York to Newburgh, when the passen- 
gers for Fishkill were landed and conveyed thence by 
the ferryboat to Fishkill Landing. Time passed away 
very pleasantly with Cordelia and WiUiam, and they 
were safely landed, and a stage was in readiness to 
convey them to their place of destination. A short 
drive in the stage brought them to Mrs. S.'s and Wil- 
liam was soon introduced to her. She gave him a 
cordial reception and he was soon seated in the parlor. 
William admired the situation, for it was one of the 
Hnest country seats on or near the Hudson. The parlor 
was most gorgeously furnished, and the sun shone 
through the large windows, and shot its fiery fays 
across the crimson carpets, and reflected upon the 
splendid mirrors and paintings that were suspended 
upon the walls. He had been accustomed to fashion- 
able life, and he had seen the gaiety and splendor of 
both hemispheres, but he had seen but few situations 
in his own country that surpassed it. The beautiful 
view of the Hudson at the north could be seen to 



146 THE BROKEN HEARTED. 

High Point, and to the soutli the majestic Highlands, 
whose towering peaks rise one above another in gran- 
deur. William was delighted with his visit, and every- 
thing, he thought, was there to make him happy. 
He thought nothing hindered him from securing Cor- 
delia, for he knew she loved him, and they had formed 
an ardent attachment for each other. Mrs. S. had 
treated him kindly, and he promised Cordelia when 
he left that he would soon visit her again. 

Mrs. S. was much pleased with William, and had no 
objection to his marriage with Cordelia, provided his 
character was stainless, and when she questioned her 
mother, therefore, respecting him as a companion for 
life, she replied favorably. As soon as W^illiam left 
Mrs. S., she immediately wrote to Miss A., in New York, 
relating all the circumstances of Cordeha's visit to lier 
house, of her acquaintance with William, at the same 
time giving her the statement he had made respecting 
himself, and requesting her to get what information she 
could respecting him. Hardly a week had passed 
when she received a letter from Miss A., stating that 
she had obtained the information desired ; that he was 
the son of a wealthy merchant doing business in Pearl 
street, and living in Broadway ; that he was a dissipa- 
ted young man, and that his parents had done every- 
thing in their power to reform him, but to no purpose ; 
and as a last resort had sent him on a tour to Europe, 
with no better results. Mrs. S. had not informed Cor- 
delia of her inquiries respecting William, and when she 
read the letter to her she burst into tears, and her ago- 
nies of mind were indescribable. She could not aban- 
don the idea of marrying William, and she was greatly 



THE BROKEN HEARTED. 147 

incensed at Miss A. for writing such a letter to her 
mother. But she was fearful that it might be true, 
and she shuddered to think that he was immersed in 
dissipation, for the image of his loveliness was now 
stamped where no hand but that of death could efface 
it, and during her short acquaintance with him she 
had seen nothing to indicate the truth of such a report, 
and she thought his character pure and unspotted. But 
Wilham was soon to make her another visit, and then 
she hoped that he could prove the report untrue. 

William, on his return home, kept aloof from his old 
companions, and his mind was occupied in thinking of 
Cordelia, and he was impatient for the time to arrive 
when he was to visit her again. When the time came, 
he was soon again at Mrs. S.'s, and after he was com- 
fortably seated in the parlor, he perceived that Cor- 
delia was agitated. He thought she had been laboring 
under mental inquietude, and it alarmed him. She 
treated him with her usual kindness, and yet he thought 
there was something lurking in her heart which made 
her unhappy. Cordelia knew that her mother intend- 
ed making known to him what she had heard respect- 
ing his character, and she hoped that he could prove 
it untrue, and this encouraged her ; but when her 
mother introduced the subject, he lost his self control 
and frankly confessed it, and then Mrs. S. read the let- 
ter which she had received from Miss A. During the 
reading Wilham was deeply moved, and the tears soon 
found their way to his cheek, and Cordelia was so 
overcome that she was obliged to leave the room. She 
soon returned, weeping, and resumed her seat on the 
sofa. Her face was suffused with tears, as she listened 



148 THE BROKEN HEARTED. 

to her mother, while she informed WilHam tliat he 
must leave the house forever. When he bade adieu to 
Cordelia, the tears were rolling down his cheeks, and 
his heart was swelling with sorrow. He hurried to tlie 
city, joined his old companions in guilt, became a con- 
firmed inebriate, dragged out a miserable existence, and 
died a wretched death. But the shock was too great 
for Cordelia. Isolated and alone, she shunned all soci- 
ety, and became melancholy. Her mother saw the 
fatal mistake that she had made, and she made every 
effort in her power to render her happy, but all proved 
unavailing, for she saw, when it was too late, that she 
had destroyed the peace of her daughter, and it pene- 
trated the very chamber of her soul. She had inflict- 
ed a wound which no medicine could heal, no tears 
wash away ! Secluded from the world, Cordelia's grief 
was unmitigated, and during the few short years that 
she lived, she was never more seen to smile. She died 
of a broken heart. Mrs. S. regretted very much the 
manner in which she treated William, and after the 
death of Cordelia, she had no desire to live. Her cup 
of sorrow was filled to the brim, and she was compell- 
ed even to drain it to its very dregs, for the trouble 
and mental agony that she endured soon terminated 
her existence. 

Kind reader, Cordelia and her mother now sleep in 
the village churchyard at Fishkill Landing, beneath 
the stately branches of the cypress, and there will they 
slumber until the arch-angel shall lift his trumpet and 
sound the summons for all to appear at the Judgment 
Seat ! 



THE HIGHLAND FAIIMER VS. THE 



WESTERN FARMER. 

What a contrast there is in the circumstances of 
mankind, often engaged in the same occupation, more 
particularly those who are engaged in agriculture. 
This may be in a measure owing to the difference in 
the management of their farms, and the productiveness 
of the soil. Often do we witness the rough and sterile 
land on the mountains, while in the valleys below lie 
beautiful farms, unobstructed by rocky knolls or worth- 
less swamps, and when brought under cultivation 
affording rich returns to the husbandman, while the 
flirmer on the mountains, practicing the most rigid 
economy and industry, often has to contend with pov- 
erty through life. 

"We may inquire why is this so f why are some por- 
tions of the country so rough and broken, when a few 
miles in an opposite direction it is almost destitute, if 
not entirely, of rocks and stones I The only answer 
that can be given is, infinite wisdom has made it so. 

Situated on one of the highest elevations of the high- 
land mountains, is a farm-house that was owned by 
one family to the third generation, and the occupant 



150 HIGHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 

was called the highland farmer. From liis doorsill he 
could look down on the rich valleys of the Fishkills^ 
and in Summer he could see the golden harvests, and 
in Autumn the ripening fields of corn stretching through 
the valleys, interspersed with mellow orchards and 
flocks and herds. He often inquired of himself why 
his forefathers settled on the mountains and entailed on 
their posterity poverty, when land was so ciieap in the 
valley. The highland farmer now was in straightened 
circumstances, for he had a large family to support. 
The large forests which covered the farm when his 
grandfather settled there, had now nearly disappeared, 
for they were obliged to market a number of cords of 
wood yearly to help maintain their families. This 
privilege now was denied him, for he had hardly suffi- 
cient fuel to supply his own fire. He was obliged to 
turn out every haying season, to help the farmers in 
the valleys get their hay in, in order to obtain a few 
loads of coarse fodder to enable him to keep his few 
cattle through the winter, and often he would feed 
them so scanty that he would lose one or more from 
starvation. Under circumstances like these, tlie high- 
land farmer was often depressed in spirits. His old 
dilapidated dwelhng was getting leaky, for the shingles 
and clapboards were falling off', his children were poor- 
ly clad, and his rocky farm produced less every year. 

It has often been remarked that man conforms to the 
country in wliich he lives. If it is rough and unpro- 
ductive, he is generally unpolished himself, for he has 
not the advantages of those who live in countries where 
wealth and refinement prevails. The highland farm- 
er's opportunities were limited, and often would he go 



HIGHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 151 

to the village in the valley to purchase some necessa- 
ries for his family, and the rich farmers would congre- 
gate at the village store to converse on the topics of 
the day, when the highland farmer would listen very 
attentively to their conversation, and he often contras- 
ted his situation and opportunities with theirs, which 
often times made him very unhappy. 

The highland farmer had a well balanced mind, and 
he often regi'etted his living there, in tliat rough and 
broken country. Had he left there wdien he was young 
and emigrated west and purchased new land, he might 
i]Ow have been a wealthy and influential citizen, and 
his children would have had better opportunities and 
occupied higher positions in society. 

The highland farmer had now arrived at the merid- 
ian of Hfe, and the prospect of his ever bettering his 
condition was by no means flattering, yet he could sub- 
mit to all this if he could only improve the condition 
of liis family, for this was his greatest trouble, and this 
no one knew but himself. His wife and children often 
discovered that he was unhappy, for he w^ould sit hours 
with his family, during the long winter evenings, with- 
out attempting any conversation, and at times he could 
not refrain from weeping, and they often inquired the 
cause of his sorrow, but he would not inform them. 

The winter of IS — was a very severe one. The 
snow had fallen the latter part of November and remain- 
ed till spring, and during the winter months it covered 
the earth four feet deep on the mountains and more 
than three feet in the valleys, and at times the wind 
would whirl it into eddies and pile it up in huge masses 
along the wayside, rendering the roads often impassi- 



152 HIGHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 

ble, which caused much suffering among the poorer 
classes. It was difficult for those living on by-roads to 
get to mill or store, or even to the woods for fuel. The 
highland farmer had to cart his fuel on his back, beat- 
ing a path to the woods with the aid of snow shoes to 
keep him from sinking through the snow to the earth. 
The nearest mill to him was in the Highlands, and 
there too he was obliged to go on foot. The snow 
had formed a crust on the surface sufficient, with the 
aid of snow-shoes, to hold up the weight of the heavi- 
est man. This enabled the highland farmer to take a 
bag of grain upon his back to the Highland mill and 
return in safety. The emigration West the following 
Spring was so rapid, to Chicago and Milwaukee, that 
produce was shipped from Ohio to those western States 
to supply the emigrants with food. This rendered the 
price of grain in the eastern States very high, and 
enhanced the value of land in our river counties. Land 
speculation had caused good farming lands to sell for 
one hundred dollars per acre, and farms on the moun- 
tains even were sought after. 

A mechanic living in the village in the valley, hav- 
ing a little money, wishing to invest it in land, and not 
having enough to purchase a farm in the valleys, turn- 
ed his attention to the mountain. In reviewing the 
farms there, he concluded to try to buy out the high- 
land farmer. They were not long making a bargain. 
The mechanic made him an offer, which he readily 
accepted. An article of agreement was soon drawn 
up and signed by both parties. After the highland 
farmer had sold his farm, he began to reflect on what 
course to take. Everything to him now appeared dif- 



HIGHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 153 

ferent. He and his parents and grand parents had been 
reared there. 

The place where w^e liave been born and reared, 
often causes an attachment which we carry wnth us 
through life, however uninviting it may appear. Every 
particular spot calls up before us some tender recollec- 
tion. Parents, brothers and sisters, all have been born 
there. The highland farmer now experienced the ten- 
der ties which were about to be severed forever. Every 
rock on the farm he loved, every stick of timber in his 
dwelling was dear to him, the brook that meandered 
through the back yard, where he had played with his 
associates from his earliest recollections, seemed now 
to him a lovely spot. He had often prayed that he 
might not end his days on the highland farm, and now 
his prayer was answered, and he had often wept over 
his misfortunes, and now could he leave without any 
regrets, thought he to himself. Oh, no. The highland 
fanner was yet in the prime of hfe. He had not reach- 
ed his forty-fifth year, and he concluded to emigrate to 
one of the Western States. Accordingly he set out on 
his journey. Being unaccustomed to travel, the dis- 
tance alarmed him. The canal and stage-coach were 
the only means to convey passengers west from Albany, 
for the railroad from Albany to Buffalo was not then 
completed. The highland farmer took passage aboard 
the canal boat to Buffiilo, and after reaching Niagara 
county he concluded to go no further. Lands then 
w^ere comparatively cheap in Western New York, for 
the farmers had but recently commenced removing to 
new States further west, and the country yet was the 
favorite resort for emigrants. The highland farmer 



154 HIGHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 

purchased a good wheat farm, containing two hundred 
acres, for a few hundred dollars more than he sold his 
i-ough and rocky farm for. The farm was partially 
improved. The dwelling house was built of logs, like 
those of most of the first settlers, but the barn was a 
large frame building, recently built, and the land was 
mostly cleared, new and productive. The highland 
farmer lost no time in getting his family to his new 
home, and the following Spring they were all comfor- 
tably settled, and ready to commence farming. The 
mode of working now was entirely different, for the 
highland farmer liad no rocks and stones to contend 
with. His farm would vie with any in the rich val- 
leys of the Fishkills, for not a boulder or cobble stone 
could be found, and he put his crops in the earth in 
season, and in the fall he had a golden hai'vest. He 
soon canceled the debt he had contracted when he 
purchased his farm, and yearly he raised large crops of 
wheat, for which he received when in market, prices 
which enabled him to have a surplus of money suffi- 
cient to build him a substantial fann dwelling house, 
which when completed added greatly to the happiness 
and comfort of his family. The highland farmer now 
was in affluent circumstances, and he paid great atten- 
tion to the education of his children. When he lived 
on the highland flirm his house contained no reading 
material but an almanac, a Bible, and Webster's spell- 
ing book. Now it was furnished with a neat library. 
He had never subscribed for a newspaper until after he 
settled in Niagara county, for his means were too lim- 
ited, and now it was to him one of the greatest of 
blessings. Rich and prosperous in his old age, he wa8 



HIGHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 155 

perfectly happy, and no more can we apply to him the 
appellation of the hi^^liland farmer, but now we will 
call him the western farmer. 

He had a desire once more to see the place of iiis 
nativity. If he could visit his birth place once more, 
he thought he could die contented, for truth compels 
me to say that when he first removed to his western 
farnj he was home-sick for months. And can we won- 
der at this f No, for he had lived in no other place, 
hardly spent two consecutive nights from home, and 
he wanted to revisit it before he died. Accordingly he 
set out, accompanied by one of his sons, for that pur- 
pose. They soon arrived in the valley of the Fishkills, 
and made a stop at the village store. The rich farm- 
ers had congregated there as usual, and were discuss- 
ing different subjects when the western farmer and his 
son entered. His old neighbors did not recognize them. 
They whispered to each other, asking who the stran- 
gers were. Some remarked that they appeared to be 
men of wealth and eminence. Curiosity became excit- 
ed to know who they could be, and what their busi- 
ness was. The western farmer and his son knew them 
all, and for a while kept themselves at a distance, leav- 
ing the villagers in suspense. At length he introduced 
himself to one of the company, informing him who 
they were. 

The villagers surveyed the western fanner and son 
from head to foot, for they were clothed with costly 
apparel, and in conversation they were well posted 
with the events of the day. He gave a brief history 
of his situation in Niagara county, and what a beauti- 
ful farm he owned, and he had now come once more 



156 HIGHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 

to see the old homestead. From the villagers he learn- 
ed that the mechanic who purchased his farm was sad- 
ly disappointed. He went there with bright anticipa- 
tions, expecting to better his condition, but being unac- 
quainted with fanning, and owning land covered with 
rocks and stones, he went behind hand every year. 
Becoming disheartened, the mechanic at last got dis- 
couraged. He had been accustomed to economy and 
industry, but severe labor amounted to nothing. It 
was true that tlie products of the land were dear, but 
he could earn more working at his trade tlian toihng 
on a rough worn out mountain farm. The mechanic 
at length found a customer for his farm, and selling 
out at less than cost, and glad to come off so, he pur- 
chased a small farm at the base of the mountain, where 
there were less rocks and stones, and was now comfor- 
tably situated there. The western farmer and son 
called on him. Tlie mechanic had not yet entirely 
recovered from his reverses, and the western farmer's 
and son's appearance made an indelible impression on 
the mechanic's mind. He saw the fatal mistake he 
made when he purchased the highland farm. Had he 
then gone west and located on a good wheat farm, he 
might now have been in like circumstances with his 
friend who had called to see him. The western farm- 
er ascended the mountain, where lay th(i farm, the 
place of his birth. How his heart beat as he neared 
his old doniicil. With what intense interest did he 
view every surrounding object, and when he reached 
the farm his eye scanned the mountain. How differ- 
ent every thing appeared to him, for he had been 
accustomed to live in such a beautiful country that his 



HIGHLAND B'ARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 157 

old highland farm appeared more uninviting than ever. 
Every rock appeared to have grown larger. The scenes 
of his childhood came up before him in vivid recollec- 
tion. The brook where he had so often played with 
his brothers and sisters still meandered through the 
landscape. The old chestnut tree from which he had 
so often gathered the fruit in his childhood, and which 
had been beaten by the storms of a hundred winters, 
was still there. The few aged hemlocks which he had 
been accustomed to see from his infancy, were still 
clinging to those elevated mountain peaks, bidding 
defiance to the tempest that howled around them. The 
exterior of the old homestead wore a more cheering 
aspect, for it had been newly roofed and sided, but the 
interior looked more gloomy and dismal than ever. The 
low ceilings, with timbers uncovered, the small dark 
windows, and huge stone fire place and old oaken floors, 
were the same as when he left there twenty years ago. 
The western farmer scrutinized the old homestead with 
pecuhar interest, for it was the last visit he expected 
to make to the highland farm. He had now arrived 
at the age of more than three score years, and the few 
remaining years that would be allotted to him here he 
intended to spend quietly at his western home. He 
cast his eye again over the valleys of the Fishkills, and 
every thing arose in perspective view before him. Not 
a cloud obstructed the horizon. The hazy atmosphere 
that so often hung upon tlie adjacent mountains and 
over the valleys had now disappeared, and the view 
from the highland farm never appeared more beautiful, 
for there was nothing to interrupt it. Numerous small 
villages, stately mansions and farmhouses, dotted the 



158 HIGHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 

earth on every hand. The Matteawan creek lay spark- 
ling in the distance, with its tributaries winding through 
the valleys like threads of silver. The majestic Hud- 
son could be distinctly seen, and with what thrilling 
interest did he gaze at the splendid craft — dancing upon 
the water. The western farmer's mind reverted to 
those days when he lived there on the highland form, 
struggling with poverty, and he was obliged to labor 
for the rich farmers living in the valleys in order to 
maintain his family, and how he envied their situation ; 
and now he owned a farm in Niagara county, rich and 
productive as theirs. The transition from poverty to 
wealth within the last twenty years he could hardly 
realize. With such impressions he bid adieu to the 
highland farm, and was soon again at the residence of 
the mechanic. 

The western farmer and son tarried several days 
with the mechanic, who made every effort in his pow- 
er to make their visit pleasant. The mechanic related 
to him his experience in farming on the highland farm ; 
that when he purchased the farm and had consummated 
the bargain he thought his money was well invested, 
and early in the Spring of 18 — he commenced opera- 
tions. Toiling through the seasons nearly fourteen 
hours out of twenty-four, among the rocks and stones, 
and being unaccustomed to such physical labor, his 
constitution began to give way. With all the exertions 
he made he hardly brought the year around. The 
second year he exei'cised the same patient and stubborn 
industry to improve his condition, but all to no pur- 
pose. With his health impaired and no fences on his 
farm, his house open and leaky, with no means to 



HIGHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 159 

repair them, he sold the highhmd farm at a sacrifice, 
and purchased the farm he now occupied, and having 
partially recovered his health and improved the condi- 
tion of his family, he intended, as he was now far 
advanced in life, to spend the remainder of his days 
there. 

The western farmer listened very attentively as the 
mechanic related his story, and then he related his 
experience living on the highland farm ; how many 
years he had there to contend with poverty, and his 
family uneducated, and now he owned a good wheat 
farm in Niagara county, containing two hundred acres 
as productive as any in Old Dutchess, with a dwelling 
which he had recently built, large and commodious, 
and he owed no man a cent, and he had spared no pains 
to educate his children. 

The western farmer and son paid a visit to a few 
more of his old acquaintances, and then set out on their 
journey home. Very friendly was the parting between 
him and the mechanic. He rode through the valleys 
of the Fishkills, and the highway which he had so 
often traveled in early life. The alterations and 
improvements wliich had been made since then, the 
last time he ever expected to see them, were scenes 
deeply interesting. An hour and a half's drive, brought 
him to the Hudson, and as he gazed upon the river 
from Newburgh, a view unobstructed for many miles 
either way, the numerous sails, towering highlands, 
whose tops seemed to pierce the very clouds, adding a 
zest to the surrounding scenery. Soon the steamer 
hove in sight that w^as to convey him to Albany, and 
bidding adieu to all the scenes of his childhood, the 



IGO HKJHLAND FARMER VS. WESTERN FARMER. 

western farmer and son sailed up the noble Hudson. 
Taking a packet from Albany, they soon reached their 
home in Niagara county. There the western farnier 
lived to a good old age, rich and happy, enjoying him- 
self in the bosom of his family, and dying, as I trust, in 
the hope of a blessed immortality beyond the grave. 



DEACON JONES; 



OR, THE PIONEER. 

Ill the year 1790, the State of Connecticut contained 
nearly 240,000 inhabitants, and so rapid was emigra- 
tion from the Eastern States west, that it was half a 
century afterward before the population of the State 
reached 300,000. Western New York and Ohio, 
then a wilderness, was the favorite resort of the emi- 
grant from the New England States. So great was 
emigration from Connecticut to Western New York 
and Ohio about the year 1800, that her population for 
several years was almost stationary. A large number 
of families would sell their rough and rocky farms and 
prepare themselves with a covered wagon and leave 
for the beautiful and fertile valley of the Ohio, and so 
large a share of emigration did Connecticut contribute 
to that state, that that portion lying south of Lake 
Erie was called New Connecticut. 

In the county of Fairfield, in that state, lived a man 
whose name was John Jones^ having a large family 
and owning only sixty acres of land, the most of it 
rough and broken, and under the best of cultivation it 
hardly supported his family. Having heard of the 
wonderful stories told of tlie rich lands Iving south of 



162 DEACON JONES. 

Lake Erie, he concluded to try his fortune there. 
Hard, indeed, was it for him to leave the home of his 
childhood, the school-house where he had received his 
first riidinnents of education, the brook in the meadow 
where he had so often played with his associates, ever 
since his first recollection, the church where he had 
so often worshipped the God of his fathers, and the 
churchyard where his ancestors had slept for several 
generations. He had for nearly a quarter of a century 
been a pillar in the church. AVhen it became known 
that he intended to leave for Ohio, the church and 
neighborhood were deeply aftected. The church would 
lose one of her main pillars, the neighborhood one of 
her best citizens. Deacon Jones having sold his farm 
and with the proceeds purchased a large tract of land 
in Ohio where Cleveland is now located, then a vast 
wilderness, inhabited by savages and beasts of prey, 
and a distance, too, of nearly five hundred miles, a 
great journey in those days, for then there were no 
steamboats nor railroads, and traveling was a toilsome 
occupation. Deacon Jones had a large lumber wagon 
made sufficient to hold his family, and covered so as 
to protect them from the storms, and to rest in during 
the night. The time was drawing near when he was 
to bid farewell to those he had held most dear. The 
last Sabbath had arrived when he was to meet those 
with whom he had communed in tlie church from his 
earliest years to the present time ; his pastor who had 
so faithfully delivered the warnings of inspiration, and 
had been instrumental in winning him to the Saviour. 
All these tender recollections of by-gone days clustered 
around him, and as he sat in his seat in that sanctuary 



DEACON JONES. 163 

probably for the last time, and was to leave on the 
morrow for a country where the herald of the cross 
had not yet been proclaimed, his heart was wrung 
with anguish. But the prospect of bettering the con- 
dition of his family was a great inducement for him to 
leave the liome of his birth, and live the few remain- 
ing years which might be allotted to him away from 
friends and society; for he anticipated the time woidd 
come when the large tract of land which he had pur- 
chased would be very valuable, and would be the means 
of placing his family in comforiable circumstances, if 
not making him rich. Flushed witli such expectations, 
Deacon Jones, on the first Monday in May, in the year 
1800, bid adieu to his native place, and with his fam- 
ily, consisting of his wife, four girls, one son whose 
name was Lewis, started for his new home in Ohio, 
where Cleveland is now located. Deacon Jones had 
used all possible means to make his family comfortable 
during the long journey, which he knew would occupy 
thirty-five or forty days. His large covered wagon 
was sufficient to hold his family and the few necessary 
articles of furniture he knew he would want in a new 
country. Drawn by a good sturdy yoke of oxen, he 
pursued his course. Ohio then coiftained only about 
•25,000 inhabitants, and where Deacon Jones had pur- 
chased was a boundless forest, for then Western New 
York was considered the out-post of civilization, and 
beyond there Deacon Jones would find only a few iso- 
lated settlers. But he was aware of this. To shun 
the Alleghany mountains he proceeded north through 
Columbia county, in the State of New York, following 
the Hudson river to Albany, and there for the first 



164 DEACON JONES. 

time Lewis beheld a city, for he was then only ten 
years old, and had been but a few miles from his native 
place. Albany then contained about 1500 buildings 
and upwards of 6,000 inhabitants. Altliough a small 
city compared with its present magnitude, the curios- 
ity of Lewis was excited when passing through the 
principal streets. The public buildings, the tall glit- 
tering church spires, the people, the vehicles, the large 
stores and shops, all were new to him. But Deacon 
Jones soon emerged from the city, and was on the 
state road leading west and as far as Whitestown, sit- 
uated on the Mohawk, one hundred miles west from 
Albany. The roads were passable for heavy loads. 
Going along at the rate of twelve miles a day, sleeping 
in his wagon nights, he was eight days reaching Whites- 
town, then a flourishing village. 

On leaving Whitestovni the country wore a different 
aspect. It was more sparsely settled, and the roads in 
many places almost impassible, and in the low wet 
places the pioneers had rolled in logs and covered them 
with a thin layer of earth. The heavy rains that had 
recently fallen had washed the earth away, leaving the 
logs uncovered, and as Deacon Jones rode over the 
logs the joltings 9i the wagon made it more fatiguing 
to his family than performing the journey on foot. His 
son Lewis was a mere youth and unable to walk, being 
of a feeble constitution, and witli his mother seated in 
the covered wagon, pillowing his weary head upon 
her bosom, he began to experience the hardships of the 
wilderness. Deacon Jones never was discouraged. 
Always cheerful, and often speaking words of encour- 
agement to his family, and urging his ox team through 



DEACON JONES. 165 

the long listless day, stopping only to refresh himself 
and family, turning his oxen nights in the forests, and 
in the morning hunting up his team, and then pursu- 
ing his journey. Sometimes a deer would cross his 
path, which afforded his family much pleasure. Arriv- 
ing at Geneva, which then contained sixty families, 
Deacon Jones tarried a few days to refresh himself and 
family. An Englishman named Powell kept a hotel 
there, and the kindness that Deacon Jones and family 
received made them once more happy. 

Passing through western New York from Geneva to 
Canandaigua and to the Genesee river, the scenery was 
picturesque, the country beautiful, and very open in 
many places. The openings were free of timber, then 
appearing to contain at least two or three hundred 
acres, beautifully variegated with hill and dale ; some- 
times composed of a range of gentle ridges of land 
running most frequently from noi-th to south, between 
each a run of water and considerable bottom on each 
side. It was again in some places timbered chiefly 
with hickory, oak, basswood and pine. Then again on 
the open flats on the Genesee river were ten thousand 
acres lying in one body, not even encumbered with a 
bush, but covered with grass of such height when full 
grown that the largest bullock at thirty feet from the 
road would be completely hid from view. Deacon 
Jones passed through the coimtry and crossed one of 
the prairies, where there were a few scattering trees 
intei-spersed, in the latter part of May. The weather 
had been delightful for some days, not a cloud obstruc- 
ted the horizon and the rays of the sun in the middle 
of the day were uncomfortably wann. He halted at 



166 DEACON JONES. 

noon, as usual for himself and fainilvj and turned his 
oxen out on the prairie to graze ; of a sudden he heard 
distant thunder, lifting up the cover of his wagon he 
saw a dark angry cloud skirting the horizon. The first 
appearance gave him little alarm, but it gradually 
increased and gathered strength as it rose. The flashes 
of lightning followed each other in rapid succession, 
and the continued peals of thunder reverberated through 
the air. Presently the rain fell in torrents and the 
wind blew^ violently, and the falling water beat against 
his wagon, in places driving through. Deacon Jones, 
sitting in his wagon, watching the storm, discovered a 
flame of fire bursting upward, caused by the lightning 
striking a dry tree and which had kindled with amaz- 
ing rapidity. At length it appeared like columns of 
fiery red, surmounted by a crest of flame. Lewis had 
never witnessed such a sight before, and it filled him 
with terror. The tree stood more than one hundred 
feet in perpendicular height, and the flames soon reach- 
ed the top. The wind blowing a perfect gale, the fire 
caught in another tree but a short distance from it, 
both forming a burning arch ovei* the road and falling 
at last with a. crash, one over the other, like so many 
burning pyramids, similar to those funeral piles of old, 
in which w^ere collected by pagan piety the ashes of 
departed heroes. Deacon Jones' family were ver}- 
much frightened by the storm, particularly little Lew- 
is, lying close to his mother, and her arms folding him 
close. Deacon Jones betrayed no fear, nor was he dis- 
couraged, for he thought that he could scan the future 
history of Ohio. He propliesied that in a half a cen- 
tury hence she would be the tliird State in the Union 



DEACON JONES. 107 

ill wealth and population. How beautifully has his 
prophecy been verified, for just half a century elapsed 
from Deacon Jones' settling in Ohio, when she was the 
third State in the Union in population, containing two 
millions of inhabitants. The storm had abated just as 
the sun w\is setting in the west, and being some miles 
from any habitation he did not resume his journey till 
morning. It was the beginning of June before Dea- 
con Jones discovered the shores of Lalve Erie, and fol- 
lowing the Lake he was soon in the State of Pennsyl- 
vania. The forest now had became so thick and dark 
that it was often difficult to proceed, and it was forty 
days before he reached the State of Ohio. And yet he 
was fifty miles from his destination. His progress now 
was extremely slow, mostly beyond civilization, and 
surrounded by aborigines of the country, with no road 
but an Indian path, and often the trees standing so 
close that his wagon could not pass without his chop- 
ping down a tree, making his journey painful in the 
extreme. His family, too, worn out with the fatigues 
of the journey, were becoming disheartened. Arriv- 
ing within twenty miles of his destination the road was 
entirely ended, and now he had to cut his way through 
the forest. Then for the first time Deacon Jones show- 
ed signs of discouragement, for he was in an intermin- 
able wilderness, with no one but his family, surround- 
ed probably by hostile tribes of Indians, with an only 
son but ten years old, and through sickness unable to 
assist him in the least. His wife and daughters each 
in turn shouldered the axe and helped clear a road 
through the forest, till at last he arrived at his fami, 
located on the shores of Lake Erie, where Cleveland is 



168 DEACON JONES. 

situated. His oxen, tired and worn down with the 
long journey, were unable to perform much labor, and 
it was necessary that he should provide some shelter 
for his family. Weak and exhausted himself, and his 
family prostrated, they began to experience hardships 
heretofore unknown. No house but his wagon, pro- 
visions getting scarce, he had to begin to live by the 
chase. But mustering courage he commenced felHng 
trees and thinking how he should build a log house. 

A tribe of Indians was located near Deacon Jones, 
and he often heard that kind treatment towards them 
was never forgotten, that the attachment they cherish- 
ed for a friend was greater than those formed by civi 
lized nations. Those Indians often paid him a visit, 
and he treated them kindly, his family giving them 
some little article of luxury which they could conven- 
iently part with. They volunteered to assist him in 
building his house. He was far beyond churches, 
schools, stores, mills, and even roads, and many miles 
from the nearest settler. He of course could not get 
nails nor boards to use in flooring his log house. The 
Indians assisted him in getting his logs on the ground, 
and when he had a sufficient number he commenced 
building. As he advanced, with his axe he flattened 
the logs and laying one above the other, chinking the 
crevices with earth, making it perfectly tight, and with 
his oxen, assisted by the Indians, he soon had it of suf- 
ficient height to commence the roof. Having no 
material but logs for the roof, he hewed them with his 
narrow axe, and by laying them close to the ends of 
the timbers resting on the gable ends of the building, 
and gradually drawing them together until the two 



DEACON JONES. 169 

opposite sides met, at the same time carrying them up 
very steep, a roof was formed perfectly tight. Having 
floored his cabin with logs flattened on both sides, his 
family was soon comfortably settled in their new home. 

Having obtained some provisions from the Indians, 
Deacon Jones commenced clearing tlie forest, for he 
wanted to put in as large a crop in the fall as he was 
able to prepare the ground for. His wife and daugh- 
ters, and even little Lewis, helped fell the trees, for it 
was now the middle of July. After felling a large 
number of trees he would haul them together with his 
oxen and when dry set fire to them. In this way, by 
the last week in September he had ten acres ready for 
wheat. 

Deacon Jones and family had toiled hard during the 
Summer, living mostly by the chase, often destitute of 
bread and fearing famine might overtake him before 
Spring, and having no wheat to sow his fallow ground, 
his anxiety was indescribable. But he had taken the 
precaution before leaving his native place to include in 
his stores a half bushel of early corn, which he planted 
as soon as he had cleared a little spot, and although it 
was the twentieth of June before he had finished plant- 
ing, the crop was maturing. Sitting in his cabin one 
evening, tired with the fatigues of the day, his face 
buried in his hands, thinking where he should get 
wheat to sow his field, a stranger darkened the entrance. 
On looking up he saw one of his own race, the first 
he had seen except his family since he came there. He 
learned from him that a large number of families had 
left their homes in Connecticut, and had made all nec- 
essaiy arrangements for the coming winter. Deacon 



170 DEACON JONES. 



informed him that they were located about eight miles 
distant, and having heard that he lived there, he had 
resolved on paying him a visit. He informed him that 
they could supply him with wheat to sow his fallow 
ground. Early the next morning Deacon Jones yoked 
his oxen, and with his friend in liis large wagon they 
proceeded on through the woods, cutting their way 
through. They soon reached the pioneers. Deacon 
Jones received a few bushels of wheat from each set- 
tler. He went home rejoicing, and before the second 
week in October had elapsed he had finished sowing. 
His crop of corn, too, had sufficiently matured, for 
frosts do not come as early as in Connecticut. This 
supplied his family with corn bread through the win- 
ter, and the abundance of venison which he shot affor- 
ded him plenty of provisions. In the Spring of ISOl 
Deacon Jones' wheat, which he had sown in the Fall, 
looked very promising, for the soil where he had locat- 
ed was very productive. Emigration was coming in 
from all of the New England States, and the sturdy 
pioneers soon commenced opening roads and bridging 
the streams. Some of the emigrants settled near him, 
and soon churches, schools, stores, and grist mills were 
erecting, and Deacon Jones had an abundant harvest. 

The next year Ohio was admitted in the Union, and 
only ten years had elapsed since Deacon Jones settled 
there, when the State had increased from 45,365 to 
230,760 inhabitants. 

In the year 1810 we find Deacon Jones Hving in a 
substantial frame house overlooking Lake Erie, with 
comfortable out buildings, within call of the school 



DEACON JONES. 171 

house and in the sound of the gospel, a prominent 
member of u christian church, and an interesting fam- 
ily around him. His son Lewis had grown to manhood, 
and occupied a high position in society. But Deacon 
Jones did not live to see his family in possession of a 
large fortune, for he had passed the meridian of life. 
He had seen three score years, yet he had lived to see 
all his children married except Lewis, who was the 
youngest, and comfortably settled around him. But 
the forest was fast disappearing, and in the year 1820, 
only ten years further in the history of Ohio, the State 
contained nearly 600,000 inhabitants. But looii fur- 
ther in tlie history of that State. Ten years again 
passes by and the State has 938,000 inhabitants. We 
behold a city springing up where Deacon Jones had 
settled. Cleveland then contained one thousand and 
seventy-six inhabitants. But thirty years more had 
passed and Ohio was the third State in the Union in 
population, and Cleveland contained nearly fifty thou- 
sand inhabitants. Deacon Jones' family is living in 
that beautiful city, and Lewis is now one of the most 
wealthy and influential citizens, living at the advanced 
age of eighty-four years. Deacon Jones did not live 
to see the future glory of Ohio, but his prophecy was 
fulfilled. Before that time had arrived his spirit had 
taken its fli<2:ht. 



THE FARMER S DAUGHTER. 

Who that has traveled through New England does 
not admire the scenery. Its rugged hills, fertile val- 
leys, cragged rocks and lofty mountains greet the eye, 
and those valleys are dotted w^ith thriving villages, beau- 
tiful country seats, and stately farm houses, with farms 
well cultivated and occupied by a population whose 
industrious liabits are handed down fi'om their puritan 
fathers. Their religious zeal and the diffusion of knowl- 
edge has made the name of New England known 
throughout the civilized world. Her people have been 
always remarkably industrious and economical, owing 
probably to the sterility of the soil, the long dreary 
winters, the rough and broken country. 

But, reader, did you ever visit a New England farm 
house, and see the industry, the economy and content- 
ment, which makes every rational household happy. 
The thrifty farmer of New England and his family rise 
before the sun, and after an early breakfast, he and his 
sons go with their workmen to the field, and his daugh- 
ters attend to the dairy, making butter and cheese, and 
doing all work usually required in a farm house. This 
places himself and family beyond the reach of want, 
and education being diffused among the masses, New 
England has produced many distinguished men. Their 



THE farmer's daughter. 173 

colleges have flourished beyond any others in tlie Uni- 
ted States. The illustrious characters they have pro- 
duced, w^ho have distinguished themselves in politics, 
law, divinity, the mathematics, and philosophy, nation- 
al and civil history, and in the fine arts, particularly in 
poetry, evince the truth of these observations. 

Near one of those lovely villages which lie scattered 
throughout the valleys of New England, stands a sub- 
stantial farm house, reared about the beginning of the 
present century. To the eye of the traveler it would 
attract no attention, for it has none of the improve- 
ments of the present day. 

No beautiful lawns nor handsome evergreens sur- 
round it, but there is a beauty that one can not fail to 
admire. It is the thorough cultivation, that denotes 
the hand of industry rather than taste. The practical 
horticulturist had not been there, but rank pastures, 
heavy waving fields, and luxuriant meadows, indicate 
rich returns to the husbandman. The small clump of 
trees left here and there in the fields to afFoi*d fuel in 
the winter, and lend a grateful shade in the summer, 
diversify the scene, and render it still more beautiful. 

It was the home of Lucy Knapp, the farmer's daugh- 
ter. She had never been beyond the boundaries of 
her native town, and had never received an education 
beyond what the village school afforded. Taught from 
her infancy the puritan habits of her ancestors, the 
strict observance of the Sabbath, their economy and 
industry, she was reared up an utter stranger to the 
gaiety and fashion of city life. In her childhood her 
delight was her filial duty to her parents, and attach- 
ment to her associates, and after school hours she would 



J 74 THE farmer's daughter. 

roam with them over the fields and pluck the wild 
flowers that budded and bloomed, and gather berries 
that grew on the hillsides of her father's farm. As 
Lucy was the only daughter of Joseph Knapp, and 
having many brothers, when she became old enough 
she had arduous duties to perform ; for the labors in a 
farm house years ago were more toilsome than at the 
present day. The saving of labor by modern inven- 
tions has done away with the spinning wheel and the 
loom, which in those days to the farmer's daughter 
was a laborious task. But the products of her loom 
and wheel clothed the family in winter, and the butter 
and cheese which were used at their plain board was 
made by her. Industry and fresh air had given Lucy 
strong health, and if she was beautiful while engaged 
in her labors of love during the day at home, or twin- 
ing the hill flowers among the tresses of her hair, in 
the afternoon shade of the maples and elms that were 
standing near the house, she was doubly so to her par- 
ents. H* steps had now come up through life's bright 
sunshine to her eighteenth Summer, and she had lived 
in the quietness of her rural home. To say that she 
was lovely, was not enough. She was eminently beau- 
tiful, and many an eye was directed to the gallery, as 
every Sunday she quietly took her seat in the choir of 
the village church, and waited the giving out of the 
opening hymn. Her voice was sweet and full, and 
mingled like an angel's with the melody which went 
up in praise to the Author of all Blessings. Her eyes 
were the reflection of the softness and purity of the 
summer's heaven, and the tinge of the early morning 
rested on her clieek. Although she must have known 



THE farmer's daughter. 175 

that she was beautiful, by the smiles that Ht up the 
faces of all she spoke to ; she did not show it by a sin- 
gle appearance of vanity. She plaited her shining- 
auburn hair in simple folds npon her forehead, and her 
father and mother regarded her with pardonable pride. 

In the village lived a law3'er of large wealth, which 
he had accumulated by his profession. He had a son 
Robert, who had been to the village school with Lncy 
from infancy, and often they had played together, and 
rambled through the meadows, and sported by the 
brook which flowed through the orchard behind her 
father's house. Robert was designed for the profession 
of his father, and after passing through college, his 
father sent him to a law school in the distant city of 
Boston. Robert made rapid proficiency in his studies, 
for he was a young man of quick parts, good percep- 
tions, retentive and ready memory. But ah, there was 
something dearer to him than life. It was the love he 
cherished for Lucy, the attachment he had formed for 
her when going to the village school. That love had 
grown more ardent as he advanced in years, and when 
he was to leave his native village for the city of Bos- 
ton, the last Sabbath he met with her in church, he 
waited on her home from meeting, and betrayed emo- 
tions more easily imagined than described. 

There is something holy in such first early love, so 
unselfish and pure. How the man of the worhl, in his 
musing hours, looks back upon it, after yeai's have 
glided by, even with tears, though it be not sorrowful, 
except in contrast with the present. That eye which 
to the world is so cold, as it scans the crowd, is some- 
times moistened with such remembrances, and the 



176 THE farmer's daughter. 

knitted brow relaxes for a moment, forgetful of its pride. 
Lucy regarded the attention that Robert had shown 
her as nothing more than friendship. One afternoon 
her father returned from the viUage and handed her a 
letter. Seeing that it was mailed at Boston she retired 
to her room, there alone with trembling hands she 
opened it and perused the contents. It was from Rob- 
ert, and the letter portrayed his feehngs when leaving 
his native village, the affection he cherished for her 
from his earliest recollection to the present time, the 
many happy hours they had played together on the 
gentle slope of the hills beyond the brook, wliich 
flowed through the orchard beyond her father's house. 
That love had now become interwoven with the fibres 
of his heart. It had grown with his growth, and 
strengthened with his strength, and now after com- 
pleting his studies and getting into business for him- 
self, he would be very happy to hnk his earthly career 
with her through life. Oh, who can imagine the feel- 
ings of Lucy, the emotions she betrayed while reading 
the letter, for she too had loved Robert, but she had 
smothered that love in the secret recesses of her heart. 
She knew that he was attentive to her; but she 
thought the intimacy he had manifested toward her 
when going to the village school, the happy hours they 
had played together in their childhood, were the 
causes of his artachment in riper years. Who can 
fathom the depths of a woman's love! More price- 
less than the gems of Golconda, more devout than the 
idolatry of Mecca, is that unquenching love that flows 
from the gushing fount of the female heart. Lucy 
returned from her room, and read the contents of the 



THE farmer's daughter. 177 

letter to her mother, who was highly pleased, for her 
parents regarded Robert with esteem, one born and 
reared among them, and who had always borne an 
unblemished reputation. 

Lucy soon answered his letter ; and she alluded to 
bygone days, the tender recollections of the past, the 
happiness it afforded her when thinking how they used 
to roam over the fields in quest of flowers and berries 
with her brothers, and now that he had offered to unite 
himself to her, to share with her the joys and sorrows 
through this vale of tears, notliing would add more to 
her happiness than to tread life's journey with him. 

Robert, the reader may imagine, was at the post 
office when the mail arrived, and how it gladdened his 
heart when he received an answer to his letter. He 
was perfectly happy, for he was making such progress 
in his studies that he expected soon to be admitted to 
the bar, and he hoped then to get some lucrative 
employment, for he did not wish to apply to his father 
for support. Little did Robert suspect that his father 
would be angry when informed of his intention of mar- 
rying Lucy Knapp, the farmer's daughter. He was 
impatient to visit home, to see his parents and the 
object of his affections. 

It was on Saturday afternoon when he arrived at his 
native village, and with what joy he was received by 
his parents, for they were proud to learn that he was 
so far advanced in the study of law that he would soon 
be admitted to the bar, and his examination would 
shortly take place. Robert informed his parents that 
evening of his intention of marrying the farmer's daugh- 
ter. They were sitting in the room and his father was 



178 THE farmer's daughter. 

busily engaged in reading. As he related to him his 
engagement, the village lawyer dropped his book, and 
his countenance denoted anger, for he thought that the 
learned professions occupied a higher position in socie- 
ty than plain, industrious, substantial farmers. He had 
sense enough to respect them, but for his son to marry 
a farmer's daughter was something that his proud spirit 
would not brook. After sparing no pains for his edu- 
cation, he would look forward for him to marry the 
daughter of some one liberally educated. He endeav- 
ored to dissuade him from marrying Lucy, but all to no 
purpose. He said he must then leave the house, and 
he threatened to disinherit him as the last resort. 

Robert passed a sleepless night, for he saw that he 
had displeased his parents, and now he must abandon 
the idea of marrying Lucy, or the doors of his father's 
house would be forever closed against him. His par- 
ents the next morning said nothing to him on the sub- 
ject, but they looked at him with a frown of disappro- 
bation. It was the Sabbath, and as quiet stillness per- 
vaded the village, and the sound of the church bell 
reverberated through the valley, calling the people to 
the house of God, Robert directed his steps there alone, 
for his parents had no wish to attend church that day, 
and he occupied the family pew alone. Who can des- 
cribe his feelings, when casting his eyes in the gallery 
he saw Lucy sitting there ! Oh, what an hour that 
was to him ! The faithful pastor delivered the warn- 
ings of inspiration to his flock, but every word to Rob- 
ert passed by unheeded. After the services were end- 
ed an opportunity was soon offered to him to speak to 
Lucy, and Mr, Knapp politely waited on him and 



THE farmer's daughter. 179 

invited him to accompany them home and dine with 
him, to which he readily assented. When the village 
lawyer was informed that his son did not return from 
church, but went home with Mr. Knapp, he became 
melancholy. Retiring to his parlor, and half reclining 
himself on the sofa, he sat buried in thought. It was 
a pleasant Sabbath afternoon in September, and the 
sunshine looked in that gorgeous parlor and lay in rosy 
flakes about the crimson drapery of his palace home, 
as it entangled itself with his gray hairs. Presently 
starting up he walked to and fro through the room 
with a hurried step, and thinking over what he had 
said to his son the night previous, his anxiety of mind 
was indescribable. He was in hopes that his son 
would return home before leaving for Boston, and then 
he might reconcile matters, but early the following 
morning Robert took the stage for that city. He had 
had a pleasant visit at Mr. Knapp's and the Sabbath 
evening he spent with Lucy alone. He then informed 
her that his parents were displeased when he made 
known to them his intention of marrying her, but his 
mind was made up, and it was useless for his parents 
to attempt to thwart him. Robert now tried to dis- 
miss his troubles, for he was to be examined with other 
students, and he bent all his energy to prepare himself 
for the examination. From early morn till late at night 
he was perusing his studies. The day at length arriv- 
ed, and the students went through a rigid examination, 
and Robert won laurels that day, for he won the prize. 
An eminent Judge of the city wrote to his father, and 
informed him of the honors his son received. He was 
now admitted to the bar, and had commenced pi'actic- 



180 THE farmer's daughter. 

ing law in that city. As the village lawyer read the 
letter to his wife he betrayed considerable emotion, for 
he had driven his only son from his house — for what, 
he inquired of himself. Only because he would marry 
a farmer's daughter. Robert had not written home 
since his last painful interview with his father, which 
distressed his parents very much ; and his father resolv- 
ed on writing to him, for he regretted very much the 
manner in which he had treated his son. He would 
rather he would marry the daughter of some learned 
professional man, but as Lucy was his choice, he would 
object no longer. He then wrote to his son and inform- 
ed him how unhappy he had been since the evening 
they had last met, how cruel he had treated him, and 
the threats he had made him, and what agony of mind 
he had endured since then, and now he admitted that 
he was in the wrong, and he hoped that he would for- 
give him, for he was his only son, and what a cordial 
balm it would be to him if he would return once more 
to his parents. He had been successful through life, 
and had amassed a fortune, and now he had arrived to 
the age of three score years, and hfe to him, with but 
few exceptions, had been one continual sunshine ; and 
now, a dark shadow dropped over the sunshine. His 
heart was proud and self-willed, but there was a foun- 
tain there very far down whose waters would never 
dry up. It was his love for his son. 

Robert was busily employed in his office one after- 
noon, tired with the fatigues of the day, and laying 
aside his pen, he was filing some paper which had been 
mislaid on his desk, when a carrier handed him a letter. 
A glance at the superscription revealed the hand writ- 



THE farmer's daughter. 181 

ing. As he read the letter and saw that the love his 
father cherished for him burned brighter than ever, 
asking his forgiveness and humbly imploring him once 
more to return to his parents, he burst into tears, but 
the}^ were tears of joy which none but a son could feel. 
The stern heart of the flither had at last yielded, and the 
following morning he took the stage for his native 
village. 

What a happy day that was to Robert as the stage 
rolled along, and when he drew near his early home 
jind could catch a glimpse of the church spire, his mind 
reverted to the scenes of his childhood, his parents, his 
Lucy, all were to him tender recollections. It was the 
early part of March, and the night air was chilly and 
i-aw, and the wind swept through the village with short 
and frequent gusts. The village lawyer was sitting in 
liis own room alone late in the evening, for the family 
had retired for the night. All was death-like silence 
around him except the wliistling of the wind which he 
heard through the tops of the tall trees that stood 
around his stately mansion. Throwing himself back 
in his arm chair he was restless, for he was laboring 
under mental trouble. "I wish Robert" just escaped 
his lips, when a loud rap was heard at the door. Start- 
ing suddenly from his revery he caught a hght, and 
opening the door his son rushed in his arms and said 
"Father." A happy night that was to that household, 
and as the village lawyer saw the light of another day, 
he had experienced happiness to which heretofore he 
had been a stranger. 

Delightfid June had come with its roses and balmy 
breezes ; and deeper green upon the trees of the upland 



1S2 THE farmer's daughter. 

had succeeded the tinge of spring. The wild flowers 
were again in bloom, and every thing was brimming 
with delight to the ear and eye. Deep in the leafy 
solitudes the robin warbled its low sweet notes, and 
the swallow was passing and re-passing over the daisied 
meadows, lightly dipping its wing in the ripples of the 
stream as it caught up the insects hovering over the 
surface. All was joy fulness, but none were more joy- 
ful than Lucy and Robert, for the wedding day had 
arrived, and the village lawyer's son became the hus- 
band of the Farmer's Daughter. 



A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION. 



The village of Fislikill at the commencement of the 
Revolution, had comparatively few dvi^ellings. The 
inhabitants v^ere mostly of Dutch descent, and they 
retained the manners and customs which their ances- 
tors had brought with them from their fatherland. 

The most prominent person who resided at that time 
in the village, was John Swart, who was a staunch 
Dutchman, and one of the most wealthy men in the 
country. He went by the name of Captain Swart. 
The Captain's farm contained several hundred acres of 
land, and his dwelling was the most expensive edifice 
of any round about. It was a large double mansion, 
with spacious hall, and extensive piazza in front. The 
hall contained a set of hickory arm chairs, a great 
ornament at that time, for, reader, you must remem- 
ber there was no costly furniture then as at the present 
day. Some of the most wealthy families had no car- 
pets on their floors. The house of Captain Swart, 
except the parlor, was destitute of carpets, and regu- 
larly once a week the cleaning and sanding of the 
floors was performed by the negro slaves, for at that 
day slavery was tolerated throughout the country. 

The Captain had a daughter whose name was 
Amelia, who was at that time in the bloom and fresh- 



184 A TALE OF THE HE VOLUTION. 

ness of youth, being eighteen years of age, and her 
countenance shone in peerless beauty. Her complex- 
ion was soft and delicate, while down a finely curved 
neck fell her dark auburn ringlets in graceful disorder. 
Her well developed forehead, partially concealed by 
the tresses, presented strong indications of a powerful 
and well regulated mind, which liad been improved 
and discipHned by a thorough course of studies, and 
through her own assiduity and perseverance in acquir- 
ing knowledge. She knew nothing of the false co- 
quetry of the city belles, who pay their devotions at 
the shrine of fasliion, and sport with the most sacred 
feehngs of the human heart. She was open, frank and 
candid, her lips knew no guile, and her heart whis- 
pered no deceit. 

The Captain, too, was one of the most influential 
men in the county, and held a prominent position in 
the Dutch Church. The clergyman who officiated at 
that time was Dominie Reysdyck. The church was 
but an indifferent structure, a very unpretending four 
square building. The entrance was on the main street, 
and it had a barrack roof, with a sort of cupola and 
bell, while the old Dutch coat of arms surmounted the 
same. In front of the church was a large oak tree, 
that was necessarily taken down when the present edifice 
was about to be erected. The upper story had port 
holes in the walls, to enable the inhabitants to defend 
themselves, as in a fort, in case of an attack by the 
Indians, to which they were constantly subject, when 
the country was first settled. Four years after the 
close of the Revolution, this old church was taken 
down and the present edifice was erected, though it 



A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION. 1S5 

was not entirely completed until near the year eighteen 
hundred. 

The Revolutionary war had now broken out, and 
the battles of Lexington, Bunker's Hill, and Long- 
Island had been already fought. The inhabitants of 
Fishkill were at tliis time greatly alarmed, as the 
American army had suffered a total defeat, and was 
retreating through New Jersey, General Washington 
encamped that winter at Valley Forge, and in the 
spring General Burgoyne with a large army, was on 
his way from Canada to New York, while Generals 
Gates and Arnold had collected a body of men to op- 
pose his advance. Burgoyne was getting hemmed in 
at Saratoga, and the British commander from New 
York sailed up the Hudson river to reinforce him, and 
they burned dwellings along the shore as they passed 
up. The Americans, supposing they would doubtless 
effect a landing, collected an army at Fishkill to give 
them battle. The British passed on up as far as Hud- 
son, when hearing that Burgoyne had surrendered, 
they immediately returned. General Washington's 
headquarters were at that time at Derrick Brincker- 
hoff's, near Fishkill Village, where he was accompan- 
ied by Lafayette and stafi'. Washington about this 
time sent one of his aids, whose name was Dixon, to 
a cutler's, then doing business in the village, to get his 
sword repaired, and in going thither he passed the resi- 
dence of Captain Swart. Amelia was sitting on the 
piazza, engaged in reading the paper. The tragical 
death of Miss McCrea, who had been murdered by 
Burgoyne's savage allies, and the British army on the 
river being expected to land every moment, she re- 



186 A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION. 

tiected as to what might be her fate should a battle 
take place in or near the village. She therefore ven- 
tured to speak to the officer as he passed, and inquired 
of him if the British had yet landed. His reply was 
that they had not, and probably they would not, for 
they had probably by this time passed down below 
the Highlands. 

Dixon was struck with the appearance of the young 
lady. Her dark hair was all dishevelled, and her eyes 
were red with weeping, as she held the newspaper 
with trembling hand, and her plaintive voice was sub- 
dued and faltering, as she expressed her dread of the 
battle field. Dixon hurried from the trembhng girl, 
as her presence caused him to be deeply agitated. He 
completed his errand, and soon returned again to his 
post of duty, but the beautiful girl he had met with 
was constantly on his mind. He had thirsted for mili- 
tary glory, and he was rejoicing to think that he would 
soon be able to show his valor on the battle field. But 
the strife of the warrior to him was now nothing. The 
lovely girl that he had seen he felt assured could afford 
him far more happiness and joy than all the laurels 
that he might reap from the crimson field of battle, 
and he desired an opportunity to have another inter- 
view with her. He accordingly got permission of his 
commander, Washington, to attend divine service at 
the old Dutch church on the following Sabbath, which 
was then expected to be held there. 

It was not customary, during the troublous times of 
the Revolution, to have preaching regularly on the 
Sabbath. The Dutch church was sometimes used as 
a prison, and when it could be dispensed with for that 



A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION. 1S7 

purpose, the pastor would give notice tliat service 
might be expected. Dixon, as might be expected, 
was early at church, and seated himself in a conspicu- 
ous position. The congregation was fast assembling, 
and he looked with intense interest as they seated 
themselves. Presently entered Captain Swart and his 
daughter, who walked to the pew that Dixon had 
already occupied. He opened the door, and was about 
to leave, but the Captain beckoned him to remain, and 
he was soon seated between the Captain and Amelia. 
Dixon at that time was but twenty-two years of age, 
and was related to some of the first families in Vir- 
ginia, and through the influence of friends had suc- 
ceeded in getting to be an aid-de-camp to Washington. 
He was a person of pleasing manners and amiable dis- 
position. Health and humor shone in his countenance, 
while his locks of golden hue shaded his ample fore-- 
head, and the sparkling fire of his eye was softened 
by becoming modesty. A deep crimson suddenly suf- 
fused his manly cheek as he thus found himself beside 
the fair Amelia, and the deep emotions of his bosom 
may be better imagined than described. 

At that day, divine service was performed morning 
and afternoon, with but a short intermission, and _,the 
congregation tarried until both sermons were con- 
cluded. The same custom is still prevailing in some 
sections of the Eastern States. During the intermis- 
sion Dixon ventured to speak to Amelia, and intro- 
duced himself by asking her if she recollected having 
spoken to an officer a day or two previous, who passed 
her residence, and she at once recognized him as the 
person. They slowly walked around and near the 



ISS A TALE OF THE KEVOLUTION. 

cJiurch, beholding the ariny quietly reposing in and 
around their tents, while the American flag was float- 
ing gracefully to the breeze. A Sabbath stillness per- 
vaded the quiet village, and Ameha anxiously inquired 
if they expected an engagement with the foe. He 
assured her they did not, as the latest news they had 
received was that they had safely landed at New York, 
and that Washington would probably move his troops 
in a few days. They soon seated themselves together 
beneath a large forest tree that overshadowed the high- 
way, and Ameha was delighted to think tliat there 
would be no battle fought in their peaceful village, 
while she fondly hoped that the difticulty between the 
two nations would soon be brought to a happy termin- 
tion. Dixon spoke of the trouble that existed between 
the colonies and the mother country, and believed the 
breach could not be healed, and after a short struggle 
the colonies would be free and independent. Amelia 
hoped for the best, and while thus discoursing the 
bell announced that the afternoon service was about 
commencing, when Dixon and Ameha were soon seat- 
ed again, as before, with the worthy Captain. 

After church the Captain politely invited Dixon to 
accompany them home and dine with them, to which 
he readily assented. It was customary with the Dutch 
in those days, to have their best dinners on Sundays, 
and as it came late in the day, it created an appetite 
with the Captain, and he always relished them. Upon 
their reaching home, the servant soon announced that 
dinner was in waiting, and little time was lost before 
they were all seated at the table. After dinner, the 
day being nearly spent, Amelia and Dixon were 



soon 



A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION. 189 

alone in the parlor, with nothing to disturb their hap- 
piness, and time passed so pleasantly with Dixon, that 
it became later than he was aware, when he intended 
to leave. Amelia kindly asked how long he should 
remain at Fishkill, but he could not say, though he 
supposed Washington would remove the army as soon 
as there was no prospect of a battle being fought in 
this vicinity. He said, however, that he would endea- 
vor to see her again before leaving, and then bade her 
a good evening. 

Dixon now retraced his steps towards headquarters. 
The villagers had all retired to rest, and nothing was 
heard but the sentinel pacing his nightly round, and 
the howling of the wind that was sweeping through 
the village, with short and fitful gusts. As he passed 
the large tree under which he and Amelia had sat that 
day, during the intermission, his mind reverted to those 
happy moments passed together there. He cast his 
eye around and saw his country's flag floating in the 
moonbeams, and waving to the breeze, and as he gazed 
upon the spot that but a few hours since had found 
him so happy, he felt an anguish beyond all expression. 
He was now an officer of rank, yet he would cheerful- 
ly resign his commission, and leave for his native State 
and home, if he could possess the lovely object of his 
affections, from whom he had just parted. The kind 
reception he had met with at Captain Swart's, and the 
treatment he had received that day, awakened new 
emotions in his bosom. It encouraged him to repeat 
his visit, and at the same time inspired him with fresh 
hope, and he quickly retreated to his resting place at 
Derrick Brinckerhoft''s. Scarcely had he got to sleep 



190 A TALE OF THE HEVOLUTION. 

wlien the startling cry of fire awoke liim from his 
slumbers. The Mills belonging to Mr. Brinckerhoff 
were now enveloped in fianies, and the fire had made 
such progress before it was discovered that all efforts 
to extinguish it proved unavailing, and the morning 
light witnessed a heap of smouldering ruins. How the 
lire originated was never ascertained. The troops had 
liberty to leave the encampment every day at certain 
hours, and they had committed many depredations. 
The Presbyterian church, near Brinckerhoff's, was con- 
siderably damaged by the soldiers, who had taken the 
siding off as far up as they could reach, to boil their 
camp kettles, and tliey had also destroyed most of the 
fences along the highway, from the headquarters to the 
village. General Washington ordered every soldier 
into the encampment, and gave strict orders to the sen- 
tinel not to let one pass without a written order from 
their officers. He at the same time offered gratuitous- 
ly a sufficient number of men to rebuild at once the 
mills destroyed. Accordingly a large number of sol- 
diers were immediately set to work, some in hauling 
timbers, some as carpenters, hewing and framing, and 
in a short time the present Mills were ready for occu- 
.pation. 

The country at that time was comparatively new, 
and wore a different aspect from the present. Dark, 
dense forests were interspersed from the village down 
to Fislikill Landing, some of them extending along the 
line of highway, and not enclosed. No smiling village 
greeted the eye of the traveler by the way, and the 
now beautiful Matteawan was nothing but an exten- 
sive field, while the village of Fislikill Landing had but 



A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION. 191 

a few isolated dwellings. Johiisville could boast of 
but one solitary dwelling, and Stormville had but two, 
including a tavern. From Stormville to Fishkill Vil- 
lage was an extended forest. The mode of traveling- 
was mostly with iieavy lumber wagons, having a coarse 
box resting on the bolster, the seats in which were 
chairs taken from the house. The lines and traces of 
the harness were of rope, and the dress of both sexes, 
was of home manufacture, coarse and cumbersome. 
Education was not by any means as universally diffus- 
ed then as at the present time, and school houses were 
scarce throughout the country. There was an acade- 
my east of the village, near the present Presbyterian 
parsonage, which was under the supervision of Rev. 
Chauncey Graham. It was a small building, with a 
cupola and bell, and was taken down shortly after the 
Revolution and re-built at Poughkeepsie. The Epis- 
copal Church in the village of Fishkill was built prior 
to the Revolution, and was surmounted with a tall 
steeple, which was taken oft' about the year eighteen 
hvmdred and ten, as it was considered dangerous. The 
small-pox broke out about this time in the army, and 
this church was then used as a hospital. The soldiers' 
graveyard was at the foot of the mountain, near the 
residence of Isaac I. Van Wyck. There was a news- 
paper printed in the village at that time, which was 
the only one in the county. It was edited by Samuel 
Louden, who had fled from New York city when the 
British took possession of it, and he here established 
his press at the place now the residence of John C.Van 
Wyck. Before Washington left Fishkill, Dixon had an 
opportunity to make another visit at the residence of 



192 A TALE OF THE KEVOLUTION. 

Captain Swart, and as he knew he woukl be obhged to 
take leave soon, he resolved to lose no time in making 
his business known ; and as a favorable opportunity 
offered, lie addressed himself to his dear Amelia, teUing 
her the object of his visit, that he had come to offer 
himself to her, and desired to know at once her con- 
clusion, as his time would not admit of any delay. 
Amelia admired the appearance of the young officer, 
for he was uniformed in a style becoming his high rank, 
and he had letters from his native State showing that 
he belonged to some of the first families. Ameha was 
much agitated at the sudden proposal, and her whole 
frame was convulsed with tremor. She hesitated for 
a time, deeming her acquaintance so very short, though 
he was unquestionably an officer of rank and related 
to distinguished famihes in Virginia, and she at length 
suggested that if he would resign his commission and 
retire to his plantation, she would consent to marry 
him, to which he readily assented. Dixon lost no time 
in tendering to Washington his resignation, which was 
accepted, and tlie marriage ceremony soon took place, 
Dixon and Amelia soon leaving for his native State. 
They settled on his large plantation, where they lived 
the remainder of flieir days in peace and happiness. 

Captain Swart had several sons, who as they grew 
up became intemperate and great spendthrifts, who 
wasted his property, and at the close of the war of 
1812 he died. His family soon spent the remainder of 
his property, and left for parts unknown, and the name 
has become extinct in the town of Fishkill. 



FARMER JONES ; 

OR, THE DISCONTENTED MAN. 

All mankind are in pursuit of happiness, and how 
many different ways do men pursue it. Some pursu- 
ing one vocation, some another. "How few, alas, pos- 
sess it in this world," thought farmer Jones, as, he 
returned home from the labors of the day. It was the 
season of haying and harvesting, and farmer Jones had 
been swinging his scythe all day through his big mea- 
dow, as he called it, with his workmen ; for he wanted 
to finish his haying that week. He had been a long 
month engaged in his harvest and hay, and he was 
worn down with the severe labor of that busy season. 
Mowing was then done with the scythe, for it was 
before the invention of mowing machines, and the labor 
of getting hay was more laborious than at the present 
day. Farmer Jones' home was always made pleasant 
to him, for his wife was industrious, and she knew that 
her husband was tired and she had supper ready as 
soon as he and his workmen arrived. She, too, was 
tired of the busy season of haying, for her husband 
employed several extra workmen, and as soon as the 
haying season was over they would be discharged. 
Farmer Jones had never been engaged in any business 



194 FARMER JONES. 

but farming. Born and reared a farmer, lie thought it 
a laborious life. He often contrasted his situation with 
the glove-handed, learned professional man, and the 
broadcloth merchant, and thought if he had studied for 
a profession, or was engaged in the mercantile business, 
how pleasant life would be to him. Mr. Jones was 
one of those thrifty farmers who tended strictly to his 
business, and his farm being under thorough cultiva- 
tion, rewarded him. He seldom contracted a debt, 
and he always had a surplus at the end of the year. 
Placed as he was beyond the reach of want, and never 
necessitated for money, he knew but little of the har- 
rassing cares of the learned professional man and the 
merchant. Mrs. Jones, too, was frugal and careful in 
the management of her household affairs. In her dairy 
and poultry yard large profits were realized, and her 
daughters were taught the lesson that industry and 
economy is the road to wealth. But the times were 
changing, for farmer Jones and his wife thought that 
labor was getting disreputable. Their neighbors, Mr. 
Smith's sons and daughters, lived without work, and 
his son John had a fine carriage and horse to ride out, 
and he had just purchased a piano for his daughter 
Mary, and Jacob had gone into the mercantile business. 
Mrs. Jones thought they could purchase a carriage for 
their son James, and a piano for Sarah ; and could 
afford those luxuries as well as their neighbors. Far- 
mer Jones was pleased with the idea, and he thought 
to himself that he had been successful in flirming ; but 
his life had been one of incessant toil, and not occupy- 
ing a position in society as he thought with the learned 
profession and the merchant, he concluded not to let 



FARMER JONES. 195 

his children follow his honest and honorable calling. 
Farmer Jones' means were sufficient to purchase a 
carriage for his sons^ and a piano for his daughter, nor 
was there any wrong in so doing. But he concluded 
not to bring them up to toil on the farm as he had 
been. Accordingly he sent his eldest son, Nathan, to 
the city of New York, having procured him a situation 
as a clerk in an old establislied firm then doing busi- 
ness in Front street. Nathan was the youngest clerk, 
but his duties were neither arduous nor many, and he 
had many leisure hours which he spent in reading, and 
writing letters to his parents, contrasting the difference 
between the farmer and the merchant, stating what 
drudgery and physical labor the farmer had to undergo 
which the merchant knew nothing of. Nathan had 
not yet learned the risks of mercantile hfe. He little 
knew that instances had often occurred, of the mer- 
chant being worth his thousands and tens of thousands 
to-day and a bankrupt to-morrow. Farmer Jones, too, 
was w^holly ignorant of the mercantile disasters that so 
frequently occur. He had often read of failures, but 
he thought they were only a few isolated cases com- 
pared with the number that were successful. He was 
happy to think that his son was so well pleased in his 
new situation, for he thought that he had a business 
talent, and now he would be soon on the road to wealth 
and happiness. Nathan studied to please his employ- 
ers, for he did not wish to lose his situation. He 
attended strictly to business, and in a few years he was 
advanced to first clerk in the establishment, with a 
salary of one thousand dollars per annum. Farmer 
Jones was highly pleased with his son, when he was 



196 FARMER JONES. 

informed by letter that he was first clerk in the firm, 
and he anticipated that he would live to see the time 
that Nathan would be one of those merchant princes 
living in Fifth Avenue, or occupying a country seat on 
the noble Hudson. Nathan had been only one year 
first clerk when the senior partner of the firm wisliing 
to retire from business, an opportunity presented itself 
to Nathan to become a partner in the firm, which the 
junior partners gladly accepted. Nathan wrote home 
to his father, relating all the facts of the dissolution, 
and that an opportunity was now offered which ought 
not to be lost. Only $10,000 was now wanting for 
him to become a partner in an old estabhshed firm 
doing business in Front street. Farmer Jones read the 
letter with avidity, for he thought his expectations 
would be realized. He had that amount of money 
invested in bonds and mortgages on farming land, yield- 
ing him seven per cent, per annum. It would, thought 
he, take all my surplus, but my farm I have, which 
will aiford me a good living, and flirming is a calling 
which my sons shall not follow. I will not have them 
drudge for a living as I have done, and Nathan offers 
to take James as a clerk in the firm. He is old enough, 
so he says, and I will advance hira the money. Far- 
mer Jones found no difficulty in raising the money, for 
his personal property was all first class mortgages on 
unincumbered real estate, and he wrote to his son 
Nathan that the money would be forthcoming as soon 
as the new firm was established. Nathan soon received 
his father's letter informing him to make all necessary 
business arrangements, and the new firm commenced 
under favorable auspices the first of February. 



FARMER JONES. 197 

Farmer Jones now experienced that happiness which 
most men do at some period of their hves who have 
Hved to the age of three score. Through all the 
troubles which we pass in this turbulent world there 
are times when we are happy, when every sorrow is 
banished, and every trial ended. But alas ! how little 
do we think that happiness is often evanescent and 
transitory. The phantom that farmer Jones sought 
with such unremitting assiduity eluded his grasp ; and 
when he reached his hand to take the cup she extend- 
ed, he found the long expected draught strongly tinct- 
ured with the bitter dregs of disappointment. If he 
and his family had been contented when engaged in 
this rural occupation, how much more prosperous and 
happy they would have been, as the sequel will show. 
Contentment will blunt the arrows of adversity so that 
they can not materially harm us. That, with religion, 
will smooth the rough paths, and tread to earth those 
thorns that we must expect to meet as we journey on- 
ward to the appointed goal. She will soften the pains 
of sickness, and she will be with us even in the cold 
gloomy hour of death, cheering us with the smiles of 
her heaven-born affection. Hope leads us triumphant 
to a bhssful eternity. Farmer Jones had several sons 
and daughters, and he knew that he could not give his 
son Nathan $10,000, and all his children the same, for 
he was not worth that amount of property, but he 
thought that Nathan would soon realize a fortune, and 
then he could refund part of the money, for his income 
now depended wholly on his farm, and that barely 
supported him. Farmer Jones was now living in fash- 
ionable life. His two sons that lived home had their 



198 FARMER JONES. 

carriages and fast horses and lived without labor. His 
daughters had long ago despised the labors of the 
kitchen, and their time was mostly spent in the parlor 
receiving calls and in spinning street yarn. The poul- 
try yard was neglected, and the large dairy which he 
formerly kept was so diminished that they hardly made 
butter enough for their own consumption. The farm 
was worked on shares, and the crops were scanty and 
sometimes a total failure, and farmer Jones began to 
feel the want of money. He now began to think that 
farming was a poor business, and the money that his 
farm would sell for he thought would be worth more 
to him if safely invested, and then himself and family 
could live at their ease, and his two sons that hved 
home might get in some genteel business which would 
be far more respectable than farming. His son Nathan 
was doing a good business in New York, and James 
was a clerk in the same house, and he hoped that his 
two sons home would find some lucrative employment 
which would elevate them above the farmer. Nathan 
often wrote home to his parents, informing them of the 
amount of business they were doing, and the large 
profits realized. They had sold west on credit, goods 
amounting to some hundred thousands of dollars. But 
a financial crisis at last came. The money due them 
west could not be collected. They had sent agents 
west and they informed them by letter that most of 
their creditors were insolvent. Their notes were be- 
coming due, and they had no money to meet them. 
Nathan wrote home to his father, informing him that 
on the goods they sold west the money could not be 
collected, and that their notes must be met or they 



FARMER JONES. 199 

would have to make an assignment. If he would en- 
dorse their paper it might save them, and there would 
be no immediate danger, and if there was they would 
certainly secure him. Farmer Jones now began to 
experience trouble. His $10,000 was in the firm, and 
now they wanted him to endorse their paper, probably 
to a large amount, and he thought it a hazardous un- 
dertaking. He now felt the want of money, for his 
bonds and mortgages were all gone, his farm, his fences 
and buildings were in a dilapidated state. He thought 
of the time when he was working in his fields, toihng 
through the heat of smiimer, enduring the labor on his 
farm, and often would see the learned professional man 
and the merchant, the dandy and the professional loafer, 
dressed in their fine apparel, and he was unhappy. 
But now his mind had changed. Ten years ago he 
did not owe one dollar, and he had his thousands out 
at interest. Now all his money was in his son's pos- 
session in the city of New York, and he thought under 
present circumstances, it would be lost. Oh, how he 
regretted that Nathan went to the city. If he had only 
purchased a farm, thought he, and settled him on it, 
and pursued that course with his children, and trained 
them up to useful labor as he was, and commenced 
life as he had, how much better would be his situation 
now. To endorse for the firm might make him a 
bankrupt, and could he think of being destitute in the 
dechne of life, when only a few years ago he had, 
exclusive of his farm, $10,000. Such thoughts gave 
him many sleepless nights. Farmer Jones had spared 
no pains or expense in giving his family a good educa- 
tion in the English branches, which fitted them for 



•200 FARMER JONES. 

every qualification in life. If he had stopped there, if 
he had not taught them that labor was disrespectful, 
he would have escaped the mental agony that he was 
now suffering. He finally wrote to Nathan that he 
had done all for him that he could without incurring 
the risk of losing all his property, and they must expect 
no more favors from him. If the firm could not sur- 
vive without his endorsing their paper, if they could 
not get help from some other source, and they should 
be obliged to make an assignment, they must try to 
save enough out of the wreck to pay him his demands. 
When Nathan received his father's letter and read 
the contents to the firm, they abandoned all hopes of 
sustaining themselves. The money due them west 
was neariy all irrecoverably lost, and their notes were 
becoming due which they could not meet, and they 
finally made an assignment. The failure proved to be 
a bad one, and Farmer Jones' $10,000 went with the 
rest ; and when he was informed of the failure, and 
that the money that he had let Nathan have was lost, 
he was melancholy. His family now was earning him 
nothing, and he had contracted debts with the mer- 
chants, mechanics and laborers which he was unable 
to pay. His house and outbuildings needed repairs, 
and when he thought of the time when he had an 
income of $700 exclusive of his farm, and did not owe 
one cent, his anguish of mind was indescribable. 

Farmer Jones now began to think that the mer- 
chant, with all his fine exterior, was often times, if his 
debts were paid, worth nothing, and his opinion of the 
learned professions was but httle better, and that the 
farmer, situated as he was ten years ago, was the hap- 



FARMER JONES. 201 

piest being in the world. Farmer Jones now per- 
ceived that he had mistaken ideas of the happiness of 
man and of his calling. He was now in the decline of 
life, for he had passed the age of three score years, 
but he was determined to retrace his steps, to go back 
to the old primitive landmarks of living. That indus- 
try which had been taught him by his father he now 
began to instill in his children. Farmer Jones never 
showed a miserly disposition in his most prosperous 
days. His friends and neighbors that paid him a visit 
were received with kindness, and he always had leis- 
ure to entertain them, but himself and family in those 
days never eat the bread of idleness. 

The firm that Nathan was a partner in, closed up 
their business, and he and James remained in the city 
as clerks, receiving a salary sufficient for their support. 
Farmer Jones and his two sons at home commenced 
business anew. They applied their industry to the 
farm, and his daughters attended to the duties of the 
household. The dairy was enlarged and* the poultry 
yard was not neglected. The buildings and fences 
were repaired, and soon farmer Jones began to have a 
surplus. He was too far advanced in life to have the 
supervision of his farm, but his two sons, John and 
Cyrus, managed the farm so economically, that at the 
end of the year there was a handsome dividend. Far- 
mer Jones was happy in his old age, envying none of 
the learned professions nor the broadcloth merchants. 
He could sit under his own vine and fig tree, none to 
molest nor make him afraid. Not depriving himself 
and family of anything that was necessary for their 
comfort and happiness, they had their carriages and 



202 FARMER JONES. 

fine horses, and the girls their piano and fine furniture, 
but it did not embarrass him, for the industry that he 
taught his family purchased these articles, and when a 
friend called to see him, every effort was made by the 
family to make him happy. Farmer Jones lived to 
see the day that he was in affluent circumstances again, 
and his two sons married and settled around him on 
substantial farms. His daughters, too, married farmers 
who were industrious and thriving, and they eventually 
became wealthy. 



THE mechanic's WIFE. 



It was the gloomy month of November, and a driz- 
zling rain had continued for several days, with a chilly 
wind from the northeast making everything look dreary 
without. Mrs. Strong was sitting close to the window 
in her little room, watching the people who were oblig- 
ed to be exposed to the weather, for the traveling was 
very unpleasant. The falling rain had made the streets 
wet and slippery, for the atmosphere had now become 
freezing, and Mrs. Strong was happy to think that she 
was so comfortably situated. Her infant was lying in 
the cradle close by a warm stove, sleeping soundly. 
Yet anxiety was depicted in her countenance, which 
showed that she was laboring under mental inquietude. 
Her husband, who was a carpenter, had, by industry 
and economy, with her assistance, acquired their little 
home, and surrounded the yard with flowers and creep- 
ing vines, which Mrs. Strong had carefully arranged 
with her own labor, for her husband employed his time 
working at his trade. Mr. Strong was a finished work- 
man, and a master builder, residing in the flourishing 
village of Utica. He had commenced the world with 
nothing, and marrying in early life, he and family 
removed to Utica in 1813, then a village containing a 
population of 1700 souls. Mrs. Strong, the reader 



204 THE mechanic's wife. 

may imagine, was an heir of poverty. On the contra- 
ry, she was the only daughter of wealthy parents, liv- 
ing in one of our eastern cities, highly accomplished 
and educated. She was the idol of her parents, and no 
pains had been spared to place her on the pinnacle of 
fashionable society. Mr. Strong was employed to do 
some work for her father, where she first became 
acquainted with him, when they became ardently 
attached to each other. When her father discovered 
the attachment, he paid Mr. Strong for services ren- 
dered, and discharged him. But Mr. Strong was not 
to be defeated. Watching his opportunity he secretly 
coiTesponded with her, and an hour was appointed for 
him to meet her in a solitary place, and she eloped 
with him to the above village. 

Western New York then was comparatively new, 
and there was no conveyance west except by stages, 
for then there was no canal or railroad to convey trav- 
elers west. Many years after Mr. Strong settled in 
Utica, the Erie Canal was completed through the 
State from Albany to Buffalo, a distance of three hun- 
dred and sixty miles, which opened a way for the trans- 
portation of the products of western New York. Prior 
to that there was no other way to transport the farm- 
ers' produce but by large covered wagons holding sixty 
or seventy bushels of wheat and drawn by four horses, 
and occupying several days before reaching Albany. 
But the completion of the Erie Canal tapped those rich 
agricultural counties west of Cayuga Lake, and trans- 
ported the grain to Albany by canal and the Hudson 
river to the sea board. This caused the forests to fall 
before the ax of the sturdy pioneer, and the plough of 



THE mechanic's WIFE, 205 

civilization was soon tossing up the bones of the abo- 
rigines. Where the Indian had so long dwelt in his 
wigwam, and roved through the fertile valleys of the 
Genesee country, where for years he had held undis- 
puted sway, was now fost becoming the habitation of 
civilized man. Cities and villages sprung up like 
magic, and the village of Utica increased so rapidly in 
population that in February, 1832, it was incorporated 
a city. 

When Mr. Strong first emigrated to Utica he soon 
found employment, and business increased so fast that 
only two years had elapsed when he owned the home 
alluded to in the commencement of this story. Mrs. 
Strong was happy during those two years. She had 
married contrary to the wishes of her parents, but the 
only objection they had to Mr. Strong was that he was 
a poor mechanic, and as she was the daughter of weal- 
thy parents they would not consent. She was inform- 
ed that her parents knew where she lived, but she had 
never I'eceived a letter from them. Mrs. Strong was 
perfectly happy in the firstyear of her marriage. But 
now a great change had taken place. Her husband 
used to spend his evenings at home, but becoming fond 
of the intoxicating bowl, he associated with dissolute 
company at the ale house ; and would come home late 
at night intoxicated. 

Mrs. Strong looked out of the window, watching the 
passers-by till darkness set in, then lighted the candle, 
seating herself by her babe, and commenced sewing. 
The storm had increased and she heard the wind whist- 
ling and the rain falling. She tliought to herself how 
happy she would be if her husband would spend his 



206 THE mechanic's wife. 

evenings at home. As the evening advanced her anx- 
iety increased, for the storm was raging with great 
violence. Presently the noise of footsteps was heard, 
and then a loud knock at the door. But oh, what was 
her surprise when she saw her husband borne home by 
two of his old companions, less intoxicated than him- 
self. They quietly shut the door, leaving Mr. Strong 
lying on the floor, his clothes dripping wet, for they 
had missed their way and had been exposed to the cold 
storm for some time. Mrs. Strong had seen her hus- 
band intoxicated before, but she had not till then seen 
liim perfectly helpless. She had hoped till then that 
he would reform, but now the hope had forsaken her, 
and she began to experience a drunkard's home. Her 
husband now spent most of his earnings at the ale 
house, and she thought to herself as she saw him lying 
intoxicated before her, "Must we lose our home — must 
we contend with poverty ?" 

Intoxicating drinks then were sold in every place 
throughout the country. In every borough, hamlet, 
inn, store and grocery, could be seen decantei's filled 
with liquors, and intemperance prevailed among all 
classes. The mechanic used it in his workshop, the 
farmer in his field, the merchant in his counting-room, 
the professional man in his study, and the laborer at 
his work. Temperance societies then had not been 
introduced, and could we wonder that Mr. Strong did 
not reform. Gradually did the habit steal upon him, 
and he would come home and abuse that same wife 
that he had sworn at the marriage altar to cherish, to 
protect, and to love. Mrs. Strong's future prospects 
were gloomy, for she had incurred the displeasure of 



THE mechanic's WIFE. 207 

her parents in marrying contrary to their wishes, and 
probably the doors of her father's house would forever 
be closed against her. Every comfort that she had 
enjoyed she was gradually being deprived of, for her 
husband would spend everything he could get to pur- 
chase rum, and at last mortgaged his home to the rum- 
seller. How scarred and dead and callous must be the 
heart of man that will deal out the fatal poison to his 
fellow men. The rumseller's darling object is money, 
and it matters not to him how he gets it. Does he 
ever think, of the widows and orphans that he has made, 
that a day of reckoning will come, and that he will 
surely meet divine retribution. 

Mrs. Strong was sitting one evening in her little room, 
in the month of May, with her three small children 
around her, and her countenance was care-worn. She 
had sustained the hardships of emigration, and the pri- 
vations of poverty, the burdens of increasing toil and 
unrequitted care, without murmuring. She had seen 
him whom her heart's affection had garnered up, become 
a prey to vice. She had left the home of her birth, and 
she had written to her parents informing them of her 
situation and the utter destitution, the squalid penury, 
and the heart-rending agony of mind she was now suf- 
fering. The letter would have melted a heart of stone, 
but it was in vain that she looked for an answer, for 
her parents spurned her entreaties with indignation. 
Sometimes I think there is so little love and charity 
existing between man and man, that the whole world 
before me appears a barren waste. Pardon me, ye 
dear spirits of benevolence, for making this assertion, 
for your benign smiles and cheerful giving hand have 



208 THE mechanic's wife. 

strewed sweet flow^ers on many a thorny path w hicli 
my fate has forced me to pass. Think not that in thus 
condemning I forget the spring whence flow all the 
blessings I have enjoyed from you. Oh no, I look up 
to you as bright constellations gathering new splen- 
dors from the surrounding darkness. But ah, while I 
adore those benignant rays that cheer and illuminate, 
I mourn to think that your influence does not extend 
to all the sons and daughters of affliction. 

Mrs. Strong put her three children to sleep, and 
waited with unceasing anxiety for her husband. Mid- 
night was fast approaching, and occasionally she w^ould 
hear the noise of footsteps, but they gradually died 
away. Her husband had never remained away from 
home so late before. The clock told the hour of mid- 
night and he had not arrived. With a heart crushed 
wfth grief she retired to rest. Oh what a night that 
was to her, for she thought that she would never see 
him again ahve. Sleep had fled from her eyes. She 
thought of home, the image of her parents was before 
her, that mother that had watched over her from 
her earliest recollection to the day that she left the 
parental roof. For her welfare she had been never 
weary, and the arms of her love were continually 
around her. Would they refuse their Mary, thought 
she, if she was obliged to go home, merely for mar- 
rying a poor mechanic, and send her and her three 
children out in a cold and unfeehng world. Such 
thoughts as these filled her soul with intense agony, 
and her tears fell like rain drops. But the dreary night 
passed away and the morning came with no tidings of 
her absent husband. News soon spread through the 



THE mechanic's WIFE. 209 

village that Mr. Strong was missing. A search was 
immediately made and at the close of the following 
day he was found in the canal. He had been drowned, 
as it was supposed, during the darkness of the night, 
when returning from the ale house. Venturing too 
near the brink of the canal while intoxicated, he 
probably lost his balance and fell in. Late in the 
afternoon Mrs. Strong's attention was arrested by a 
group coming slowly through the main street. A 
terrible foreboding came over her. She thought they 
bore a corpse. It was indeed the corpse of her hus- 
band. Utter prostration of spirit came over the deso- 
late mourner. 

With heaviness of heart was the victim of intem- 
perance borne from the house and laid in a drunkard's 
grave, and there we leave him. It may be asked, "Did 
the rumseller shed tears of contrition." No, his heart 
was adamant, and but a few months elapsed when he 
foreclosed the mortgage he held against Mr. Strong, 
and purchased the property and sent Mrs. Strong and 
her three little ones to get a living on the cold chari- 
ties of the world. Mrs. Strong's situation was now 
painful in the extreme, for her cup of sorrow was filled 
to the brim, and she was compelled to drink from the 
very bottom of that cup the bitter dregs of trouble. 
But yet there was a ray of hope. 

Her husband in the year 1817 purchased a small 
tract of new land in Erie county, near where the city 
of Buffalo is now located, and she resolved on trying 
to get a living there. Having saved a little money 
from the proceeds of her house in Utica, which the 
rumseller purchased under foreclosure, she took the 



210 THE mechanic's WIFE. 

stage for Buffiilo in Mcay, 1822. Buffalo then con- 
tained only two hundred and fifty dwellings and a 
population of some two thousand inhabitants. Mrs. 
Strong's lands lay but a few miles from the village, 
and on ariivino; there she found a log house which 
had been built by a squatter who had abandoned it. 
Mrs. Strong and her three children took possession of 
their new home. Her eldest son Charles was now old 
enough to assist her in the labor of enclosing a yard 
around her dwelling. Having purchased a few farm- 
ing implements from Buffalo, Mrs. Strong commenced 
cultivating the soil. A kind neighbor gratuitously 
broke up several acres of ground for her with his ox 
team, and she and her son Charles planted it with 
corn. With the products of her garden and a little 
assistance from a kind neighbor, and what few pro- 
ductions she gathered from the woods, for the farm 
was mostly covered with forest, she managed to get 
along veiy comfortably. She did not get her corn 
planted till the last week in May, but the fall being 
favorable^ the crop matured, and she had a plentiful 
corn harvest. Little Charles and herself gathered the 
crop and secured the stalks, and with the proceeds of 
the corn crop she purchased an ox team for the com- 
ing spring. But the next year the Erie canal was 
completed, and it greatly developed the resources of 
Buffalo, and in 1832, only ten years after Mrs. Strong- 
settled there, it became a city containing a population 
of 18,000 souls. The completion of the Erie canal 
greatly enhanced the value of land, and Mrs. Strong's 
farm lying near the village of Buffldo and the Erie 
canal, soon quadrupled in value. As her children 



THE mechanic's WIFE. 211 

grew up they became very useful to her. Her sons 
Charles and Jacob soon leveled the forest, and con- 
verted it into meadows and wheat fields, and after a 
lapse of years they erected a splendid dwelling and 
substantial outbuildings. Mrs. Strong lived there in 
the decline of life surrounded with everything that 
luxury could desire, with three interesting children 
around her. She never visited her native place after 
she married. She had written several pathetic letters 
to her parents when she was in reduced circumstances, 
stating her misfortunes and trials, but she received no 
answer to those letters, and now her parents were no 
more. They had gone to that bourne from whence 
no traveler returns, and she did not inherit any of her 
parent's property. But a kind providence had provi- 
ded for her. Thirty years more had passed away 
and the city of Buffalo contained 29,773 inhabitants, 
and Mrs. Strong was still living at an advanced age, 
and her farm within rifle shot of the city, the great 
commercial emporium of Western New York. Sev- 
enteen years more Buffalo contained nearly 90,000 
inhabitants, and the farm that Mi-s. Strong owned was 
vi^ithin the suburbs of the city. But the Mechanic's 
Wife is no more. Slie lived to a good old age, and 
went down to the grave like a shock ripe for the 
harvest. 



FARMERS THRIFTY AND 
UNTHRIFTY. 

It was the beginning of April and the warm sun had 
dissolved the snow, and the verdure had again com- 
menced clothing the trees and fields. The spring- 
birds were warbling in the groves and hedges, and 
farmer Unthrifty was getting his ploughs and plough 
harness in order so as to be ready to commence turn- 
ing up the earth as soon as the frost was out and the 
soil was sufficiently warm. The winter had been cold 
and dreary, for the snow had fallen early and deep, and 
farmer Unthrifty was fearful that his provender would 
not last till his grass in the fields was sufficient to sup- 
ply his cattle and horses with food. He had wintered 
a large amount of stock, and now he had commenced 
stinting them in their food so that they were meagre. 
The horses and oxen with which he intended to break 
up his corn ground had not sufficient strength to work 
through the day, and if he should increase their feed, 
so as to enable them to gain sufficient strength to per- 
form the labor easy, he would be obliged to purchase 
hay and grain before the foddering season was over. 
This farmer Unthrifty did not wish to do, for he was 
in debt, and the first of Ma}^ he had interest money to 



FARMERS THRIFTY AND UNTHRIFTY. 213 

pay, and he must try and get along as economical as 
possible. Farmer Unthrifty was one of those farmers 
that always overstocked their farms. His pasture 
fields were always fed close in summer, and in the 
winter his cattle and horses were fed on short allow- 
ance, and in the spring his working teams were too 
feeble to perform much labor. His crops were scanty 
and his dairy yielded him poor returns, so that he was 
always pinched for money. His farm contained two 
hundred acres of land and was mortgaged for only 
$2,000. He was oftentimes unable to pay his interest 
when due. Farmer Unthrifty was a man of good 
habits, industrious and economical, and his family 
thought he was frugal in the management of his busi- 
ness, and they had toiled hard for years on his farm 
without making one cent to pay the principal. Their 
neighbor, farmer Thrifty, had a farm now free of in- 
cumbrance, and ten years ago he paid more interest 
money than Unthrifty, and himself and family toiled 
no harder, nor economised no more. This farmer 
Unthrifty did not understand, for Thrifty's flirm was not 
so large as his, and when his interest came due he paid 
it promptly, and two or more hundred dollars on the 
principal, and now he owed no man. 

Farmer Thriffcy's farm naturally was no better than 
Unthrifty's, but it was the manner in which he culti- 
vated his farm which made him so much more success- 
ful. He did not keep as much stock as farmer Un- 
thrifty, but his horses and cattle were well fed and 
housed in winter, and had abundant pasture in sum- 
mer. In the spring every farming utensil that farmer 
Thrifty had was in order; his ploughs, his harrows, 



214 FARMERS THRIB^TY AND UNTHRIFTY. 

his plough harness were seen to, the horses and oxen 
with which he intended to break up his corn ground 
were well provided with hay and provender, so that 
when he commenced ploughing in the spring his team 
would perform double the labor of Unthrifty's team. 
Farmer Unthrifty had to pay the same wages for 
workmen as his neighbor Thrifty, and his horses and 
oxen were scarcely able to drag the plough. His 
workmen were always behind, and it was so late be- 
fore he finished planting his corn that often the Au- 
tumnal frosts destroyed the crop before it was suffi- 
ciently matured. His farm was so poorly fenced that 
his cattle often broke through their inclosures and 
destroyed his grain, and in the spring of the year he 
was obliged to let them rove over his mowing grounds 
in order to lengthen out his hay. This caused his hay 
crop to be poor and scant3^ His dwelUng house and 
outbuildings were in a dilapidated state, and he had 
not the means to repair them. But on the contrary, 
farmer Thrifty's farm was in a high state of cultiva- 
tion. His crops were abundant and his fences were 
sufficient to protect his crops, and his cattle w^ere so 
well provided with good pasture, that they were not 
taught to be unruly. He seeded heavily with clover 
and timothy, and sowed his grass lands with plaster. 
This, with what manure he could make, and some- 
times leaves from his forest, and muck from his low 
grounds, his farm was enhanced in value every year. 
The two farmers had commenced the world in strait- 
ened circumstances. One was now wealthy, the other 
no better off than when he first commenced business 
for himself. Farmer Unthrifty was sitting one day, 



FARMERS THRIFTY AND UNTHRIFTY. 215 

in tlie month of July, under the shade of a large forest 
tree. The sun darted its fiercest rays over the earth, 
and his workmen made slow progress, as the weather 
was intensely hot. He was thinking how unsuccess- 
ful he had been in farming. He was in no better cir- 
cumstances than when he commenced life. He had 
often deprived himself and family of comforts, and 
this to him was very painful. His neighbor Thrifty's 
family dressed better, and had everything for their 
comfort and happiness. His farm, his buildings and 
fences were in order, and with all the outlays on his 
farm he was free of debt and now had money at in- 
terest, and ten years ago his situation was no better 
than his. Seated as he was, his face buried in his 
hands, he heard the noise of approaching footsteps, 
and looking up saw neighbor Thrifty near by. Far- 
mer Thrifty accosted him at the same time, remarking 
that he felt careworn and thought that he must feel 
unwell. "No," said Unthrifty, "I was thinking how 
we commenced life. Our circumstances were much 
the same, and my farm, I thought, was naturally as 
good as yours. We purchased our farms the same 
year, and we commenced farming then, and I have 
been industrious and more economical than you. I 
have denied myself and family many comforts which 
yourself and family have, which has caused me many 
hours of sorrow, and I am informed that you cancelled 
the mortgage on your farm last May, and now have 
become a money loaner. Your family has been larger 
than mine, your farm and buildings are in good repair, 
and mine are going to decay, and the mortgage on my 
farm now is the same as when we commenced to be 



216 FARMERS THRIFTY AND UNTHRIFTY. 

farmers." Farmer Thrifty listened very attentively as 
Unthrifty related his story, and he felt grieved to hear 
him relate his ill success in farming. He saw years 
ago that he lacked judgment, and he thought if he did 
not exercise more skill in the management of his farm 
he would never live to see the time when he would be 
free from debt. Farmer Thrifty was one of those men 
that never interfered with his neighbor's business, and 
could often times have given his neighbor Unthrifty 
advice, but he thought that he might receive it un- 
kindly. But now he had opened the way for him to 
give him some friendly advice. He informed Unthrifty 
that for years he had seen his bad management ; that 
the process he had practised for years impoverished his 
farm ; that he kept too many cattle and horses ; he 
seeded so sparingly that he had little or no pasture in 
summer ; his hay crop was so light that his stock was 
stinted in their food through the winter, and he lost 
more or less cattle in the spring from starvation, and 
those cattle that survived the winter it required the 
whole summer to get in a thriving condition. By 
constant tillage and the exhausting of crops, his farm 
was impoverished. Half the stock on his farm well 
wintered and summered would afford him double the 
profit. And ploughing half the number of acres with 
good teams, thoroughly cultivated and well manured, 
he would raise twice the number of bushels of grain 
with half the labor. He would have more graiu'and 
more butter to sell. With double the quantity of seed 
and plaster, and taking pains to collect manure, liis 
farm would soon enhance in value and he would have 
means sufficient to repair his buildings and fences and 



FARMERS THRIFTY AND UNTHRIFTY. 217 

pay his interest when due, and a hundred or more 
dollars on the principal. Farmer Unthrifty had never 
thought till now that he erred in judgment. His 
neighbor Thrifty had enlightened him, and the infor- 
mation that he had just received he thought that he 
would profit by. He thanked him for imparting that 
knowledge to him, and when they separated he prom- 
ised his neighbor Thrifty that he would lend him a 
helping hand if he would assist him in the manage- 
ment of his farm, so at the commencement of another 
year he would be able to reduce the mortgage on his 
farm. 

It was again spring, and another long winter had 
passed, and farmer Unthrifty was again making prer 
parations to resume his spring ploughing. The balmy 
days of April had come and the warm zephyrs were 
wafting their soft breezes over the face of nature. 
Everything indicated an early spring. The bilberry 
was in full blossom, the tulip tree had unfolded its 
buds, and the purple willow was shooting forth its 
tender branches. Farmer Unthrifty had commenced 
turning up the earth and preparing his corn ground to 
receive the seed. His horses and oxen that were per- 
forming the labor were in a thriving condition, for 
Unthrifty had turned over a new leaf in farming. He 
had reduced his stock to half the original number, and 
now he had a sufficient quantity of hay and provender 
to feed his cattle and horses without stinting them, so 
that he was not obliged to turn them on his mowing 
grounds or feed off his pasture fields so early that he 
would have no feed for his cows in summer and 
autunui. Farmer Unthrifty had given his corn ground 



218 FARMERS THRIFTY AND UNTHRIFTY. 

a thorough top dressing of manure, which he had 
taken great pains to collect, and he had surrounded it 
with a fence sufficient to protect the crop from being 
destroyed by unruly cattle, which had always more or 
less injured his grain ever since he had commenced 
farming. His grounds which were to receive his 
spring crops were prepared with great care, and his 
corn was planted in season. The instructions which 
he had received from his neighbor, farmer Thrifty^ 
now began to be a source of profit to him, for his 
dairy yielded him large returns. His cows had been 
well wintered and now they had pasture abundant, 
and farmer Unthrifty had cultivated his garden and 
his farm with the greatest care. Farmer Unthrifty's 
courage began to revive as he looked over Iiis farm, 
for he saw his fields of grain waving to the breeze, and 
he waited with patience for the coming harvest, and 
with what joy did he hail the time when his harvest 
was ripe and ready for the work and he was gatliering 
his sheaves iti his garners. His corn, too, of which he 
formerly lost more or less by the early frost, had now 
thoroughly matured, and the stalks were well secured 
from the autumnal rains. Farmer Unthrifty had cut 
a larger hay crop, cau " by keeping his cattle off his 
mowing grounds in the .^ j, and the profits which 
he realized from the proceeds of his beef cattle and 
dairy were double that of any former year. 

The first of May was again approacliing, for the 
winter had passed, but farmer Untln'ifty had different 
feelings than formerly. He had his interest ready and 
a payment to make on the principal. When the first 
of May arrived, it was to farmer Unthrifty a happy 



FAEMERS THRIFTY AND UNTHRIFTY. 219 

season, for he paid his interest and two hundred and 
fifty dollars on the principal, the first payment he had 
made since he purchased his farm. It so revived his 
drooping spirits that he redoubled his energies and he 
informed his neighbor Thrifty of his success. 

Farmer Thrifty was not disappointed, for he saw 
the decided improvement that Unthrifty had made in 
farming the past year. His farm was enhancing in 
value, for he was building fences, clearing his fami of 
bushes that he had suffered to grow and encroach 
upon his grass and plough lands for years. He had 
reclaimed his swamps and converted many acres into 
fruitful fields, and he was now repairing his dwelling 
houses and outbuildings. He had seeded his farm 
heavily with clover and timothy, and sowed his grass 
land with plaster. Farmer Unthrifty had taken great 
pains in the cultivation of his crops and in the im- 
provement of his dairy, thus enabling him to have a 
large surplus of corn and wheat and butter, which he 
sold at a fair price, and with the money he made those 
improvements and paid his interest promptly and re- 
duced the mortgage on his farm, which for ten years 
had made himself and family labor hard, while he 
could only pay the interest. >rmer Unthrifty con- 
tinued to improve in the -; i^gement of his farm, and 
he at length became so tlioroughly master of farming 
that he canceled the mortgage upon his farm in less 
number of years than Farmer Thrifty, after he had 
made the first payment on the principal, and now he 
was in affluent circumstances. The two farmers in 
the decline of life w^ere w^ealthy, and were living on 
substantial farms at their ease, for their children had 



220 FAKMEKS THRIFTY AND UNTHRIFTY. 

takea their places, and had relieved them of the cares 
and lousiness of life, and their latter days were the 
most prosperous and happy. 

Who can describe the happiness that reigns around 
the home of a thrifty farmer. It has been well said 
that agriculture is the most useful and noblest occu- 
pation of man, for it is the cultivarion of the soil that 
distinguishes the civilized man from the savage. With- 
out it, Daniel Webster says, man must have lived on 
a scanty supply of roots and berries, and yet how 
many of the rising generation who have been rural 
born have left their homes and farms and rushed to 
the great metropolis for the glittering chances of mer- 
cantile life. Hard chances, too, many have found them. 
Some have been, driven to the docks and even beyond ; 
a plunge into the dark roaring waters has been their 
refuge and obhvion. If the youth of our country who 
have been reared on farms handed down to them by 
their fathers, would be contented in following their 
honorable calling, and become masters of their busi- 
ness, as the two flirmers in this story, they would oc- 
cupy a higher position in society, and probably in the 
decline of life be in more affluent circumstances than 
if they had studied for the learned professions, or had 
engaged in mercantile life. Before the Norman con- 
quest, famines were frequent in Britain, in conse- 
quence of the neglect of agriculture, but after the con- 
quest of England by William of Nomiandy, the agri- 
culture of the country was improved. The Normans 
introduced instruments of husbandry, such as carts, 
harrows, ploughs and sickles. This soon improved 
the condition of the Briton, and enabled liim to take 



FARMERS THRIFTY AND UNTHRIFTY, 221 

his place among the great nations of the earth, and 
now the sun never sets on his dominions. Agricul- 
ture, then, is the bulwark of every nation. Neglect 
it and commerce will become annihilated, large cities 
dwindle into insignificance, and man will recede into 
barbarism. 



THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 



Just after the close of the Revolution, the inhabi- 
tants of the thirteen states were poor, and tlie cities 
they contained were small. The population of the 
largest did not exceed thirty thousand, and, like tlie 
villages, were few^ in number. Ohio and Michigan 
were then a wilderness. Illinois, Wisconsin and Iowa 
were immense prairies, inhabited by savages and beasts 
of prey, and even New York, west of the Mohawk 
Flats, was a dense forest, the habitation of the Six 
Nations of Indians. The counties located on the Hud- 
son river furnished the city of New York with her 
supply of grain and provisions, and those counties con- 
tained but a few villages. Large landholders occupied 
the soil and most of them were the owners of slaves. 
Some Dutch farmers owned a score. Their houses^ 
many of them, were built of stone, and were only one 
story in height, with steep roofs, and large fii'e places 
taking in wood cord length. But few of their houses 
were painted, and their floors were without caq^ets. 
They had no carriages or one horse wagons — only 
heavy lumber wagons, and many farmers had but one, 
with no seats but sitting chairs taken from the house. 
The lines and traces of their harness were of rope, and 
with such wagons and harness they would go to church. 



THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 223 

Their clothing was mostly of their own manufacture. 
Such was the condition of the inhabitants of Dutchess 
county before the year 1800. But the reader must 
not imagine that they were destitute of the solid com- 
forts of life. They had everything that the soil pro- 
duced in the greatest profusion. Wheat, corn, vege- 
tables, poultry and fruit in abundance. As luxury 
had not then been introduced amongst them, they 
needed but little money, and the Dutch farmers were 
then in more comfortable circumstances in that respect 
than many nabobs of the fast living age of the present 
day. They often visited each other, and as neighbors 
were kind and obliging, and during the long and se- 
vere winters the young people would meet together 
and spend the evenings in cultivating friendship. They 
would dance and sing, and have various amusements, 
and thus the winters would pass pleasantly away. 

In a certain section in Dutchess county, formerly 
stood a Dutch farm house. The owner of it had a 
large farm, containing several hundred acres of land, 
and owned a number of slaves. His dwelling house 
and barn were built in ancient Dutch style, with very 
steep roof, and his house was only one story in height. 
The kitchen was located lower than the house, and it 
required two or more steps to ascend to reach the 
large room wherein the family lived. This kitchen 
was occupied by negro slaves. Richard Snadakei — 
for that was his name — lived in the simple style of 
Dutch farmers of the latter part of the eighteenth cen- 
tury. He had mai-ried in early life and had a large 
family; and with his slave labor his farm was well 
cultivated. It produced him abundance of grain, cat- 



224 THE OLD FAliM HOUSE. 

tie and fruit, and supplied most of his wants, for him- 
self, family and slaves never eat the bread of idleness. 
Richard Snadaker was a christian, and every clear 
Sabbath morning he would get up his large wagon 
and take his family and slaves to church. Churches 
then were few and far between, and Richard Snadaker 
lived several miles from New Hackensack church, the 
place where he attended and worshiped. 

The nearest neighbor to Richard Snadaker was 
Petres Vosburgh, and they were both born and reared 
on their farms. Petres had an only son, whose name 
was Hendi'ick, and he endeavored to give him a good 
education in the useful branches, such as writing, 
reading, spelling and mathematics, for then there were 
no district schools in Dutchess county. The inhabi- 
tants then hired a teacher, who charged for a scholar 
a certain sum of money per quarter, fuel and other 
incidental expenses included. As Richard Snadaker 
had several sons and daughters to send to school, him- 
self, Vosburgh, and several of tlieir neighbors, hired a 
teacher for the winter season, for we must remember 
that our Dutch forefathers paid great attention to the 
education of their children, and none more so than 
Petres Vosburgh and Richard Snadaker. The winters 
then in Dutchess county were generally severe, and 
the snow would often fall early and deep, and the wind 
would whirl it in eddies, and pile it up in drifts across 
the highways and often render them impassible, and it 
would be difficult for tlie scholars to get to the school- 
house. But no weather hindered Hendrick Vosburgh. 
He would mount the snowdrift, and brave the cold 
winter to get to school, for he loved education and he 



THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 225 

was an apt scholar. Often would he go to Richard 
Snadaker's and persuade the children to go to school 
when they thought the weather too cold and stormy, 
and often would he break the path and help the girls 
over snowdrifts, when going to school, and after the 
school was dismissed he would assist them in getting 
home. Hendrick Vosburgh was of a kind disposition 
and often would he visit Richard Snadaker's, and many 
an evening would he spend there pleasantly with his 
family. 

Years had now rolled away and Susan Snadaker was 
the girl that Hendrick had so often assisted through 
the snowdrifts to get to school, and she had now grown 
up to rosy womanhood, and he had become ardently 
attached to her. On one cold winter day, Richard 
Snadaker and family had returned from church and the 
remainder of the Sabbath he sat in his large room read- 
ing his Dutch Bible, and Susan had a fire built in the 
parlor, and the floor had been cleaned and sanded. The 
large fireplace was piled full with hickory wood, and 
the smoke was curling up the chimney and she sat 
there alone, occasionally looking out of the window, 
as if expecting some one. The wind was whistling 
over the snow, andtwiHght was fast disappearing from 
the vision, when in the distance a horseman was seen 
approaching. Susan watched with intense interest as 
he drew near, and she was not disappointed. It was 
Hendrick Vosburgh. He dismounted, and Pompey, 
the negro slave, soon had his horse safe in the stable, 
and Hendrick was soon comfortably seated in the par- 
lor. The large hickory fire was blazing upon the 
hearth, and Susan ordered Pompey to fetch in more 



220 THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 

hickory wood to supply the fire. Darkness had now 
spread over the landscape, and tlie family had retired 
for the night, and nothing was heard but the wind 
howling through the locust trees that stood around the 
farm house. Susan often replenished the fire, for the 
cold without was intense. The Sabbath had passed, 
and strange to say, Hendrick had not made the attempt 
to leave. As often as he had visited Ricliard Snada- 
ker's he had never prolonged his visits, and now, as if 
unconscious of time, the hours passed by unheeded. 
He sat in the large jamb in the fireplace, for the hic- 
kory wood was all consumed, and the large fire which 
blazed so freely in the evening, now exhibited nothing 
but a few embers and a heap of ashes. The candle 
had burnt down to the socket in its stick, and the con- 
versation had partially subsided. A cooler atmosphere 
began to pervade the room, and he did not make known 
his business to Susan until the gray dawn of the morn- 
ing was breaking up the dark clouds in the east. The 
negro slaves were already upy :;t ue were building fires 
in the lai"ge room and kitchen, ^nd Pompey and Sanco 
were out to the barn feeding the horses and cattle. 
When Pompey opened the door of the stable, he burst 
into a hearty laugh and said to Sanco : 

"Massa Hendrick's horse here yet ?" 

"Yes," says Sanco, "don't you see de light in de 
parlor." 

Hendrick had now left the house, and hurriedly 
throwing on his overcoat, he ordered Pompey to place 
the saddle on his horse. He mounted, and pushing 
him to the top of his speed, he soon reached home, and 
throwing himself on his bed he soon fell asleep. When 



THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 227 

he awoke it was noon, but a happier man than Hen- 
drick Vosbiirgh never Hved. 

Hendrick had yet to get tlie consent of Richard Sna- 
daker, and he dreaded to ask it. But he inquired of 
himself why. Had he not always been received by 
him kindly, and how many pleasant hours he had spent 
there, and how often he had invited him to his house, 
and how pleas mt he made it when there. Indulging 
in such thoughts, the burden was partially removed. 
It w^as a cold, stormy evening in the winter. Richard 
Snadaker sat in his large room w^ith his family around 
a large fire. He had just taken his iron tongs, and 
picked up the brands that lay scattered on the hearth, 
and placed them in the center of the fire, when a rap 
was heard at the door. It was soon opened, and the 
person who entered was none other than Hendrick 
Vosburgh. Snadaker pohtely invited him in the room, 
and he was soon comfortably seated near the fire. Mrs. 
Snadaker ordered Fillis to fetch from the cellar a bowl 
of apples and a mug «,ider, and place them before 
the fire, and after the^ were sufficiently warmed the 
family and Hendrick partook freely of the contents. 
His visit that evening was of special interest, for he 
had an important question to ask, and it was to him a 
momentous occasion, and yet he delayed. It was get- 
ting late and the family had all retired but Mr. and 
Mrs. Snadaker and Susan, and he thought that he could 
postpone his business no longer. In the presence of 
Susan, Hendrick asked her parents' consent for their 
daughter in marriage. In doing this he betrayed con- 
siderable emotion, and Snadaker perceived it. He then 
plainly informed him how much he thought of him, 



228 THE OLD FARM HOUSK. 

and he reminded liim of former days when he was but 
a boy, how often he visited his house, and the interest 
he took in his family and what exertions he made in 
stormy weather to get the children to school, how he 
opened the path through the snowdrifts for them, and 
for promoting their happiness and welfare he was 
never weary, and the arms of his love was continually 
around them. Before Snadaker had finished talking, 
Hendrick burst into tears, for the language he used 
was entirely unexpected. He knew that Snadaker had 
always treated him kindly, but he did not know till 
then that he cherished that affection towards him. His 
tears were not tears of sorrow, but of joy. Pale and 
trembhng, young Vosburgh stood before him, in the 
bloom and freshness of early manhood, and full six feet 
in height. His straight manly form, and tasseled locks 
hanging over his forehead, and pallid cheeks was mois- 
tened with his tears, when Snadaker gave his consent 
and said nothing would add more to his happiness than 
to see them united. Susan said nothing, for she had 
not even the power to speak, for she had listened with 
intense interest to her father when he informed Hen- 
drick of the affection that he manifested towards him, 
and the happiness it would afford him in seeing them 
united, and the language that he used, and the manner 
in which he expressed himself, thrilled the very fibers 
of her soul, for she had given Hendrick the warm gush- 
ings of her heart, and her affections had for years clung 
unreservedly to him, and now to deprive her of him 
would deprive her of life. 

Who can tell the happiness experienced where two 
beings are united, and that, too, in the bloom of life ? 



THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 229 

With hearts pure and uncontamiiiated, and souls con- 
genial, awaking to the realities of religion, what can 
be more heaven-like or angelic ? When their love 
becomes so riveted that nothing but death can break 
it asunder. That love crushes every difficulty that lies 
in its way ; it breaks up the fallow ground of the 
heart, and makes it tender and soft. That love is 
stronger than any passion that exists under the canopy 
of heaven. It is paramount to all. The love of a 
father, of a mother, of a brotlier, may be blest, but 
that love is founded on a different relationship, it is 
predicated on another basis. It is of the same genus, 
but of a different species. It is sweeter than the 
incense of Persia, yea, more delicious than odors from 
a field of Arabian spices, wafted by pleasant gales. 

It was late when Hendrick left Snadaker's, and the 
snow w^as falling fast and the wind was blowing and 
drifting it in heaps in the highways and rendering them 
impassible, and he was fearful that he could not get 
home. But he had a powerful horse, which had been 
standing in an out-shed the whole evening, and he soon 
placed himself in the saddle, and the noble animal was 
soon braving the storm, as if knowing the anxiety of 
his rider, he plunged through the snow and passing 
every drift with ease, he soon reached home in safety. 

But the winter soon passed away, and spring return- 
ed, and the warm sun had dissolved the snow, and the 
verdure had again covered the fields, and the leaves on 
the locust tree that stood around the old farm house 
began to put forth. The lilac had long unfolded its 
bud, for then the locust tree and the lilac were the 
only ornamental trees that graced the farmer's door- 



230 THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 

yards in Dutchess county, and Richard Snadaker had 
his share of them. The pear trees and apple orchards 
were covered with blossoms, and the bobolink, and 
blackbird were singing merrily in the trees. Pompey 
and Sanco were cleaning the dooryard, and the old 
farm house never appeared more beautiful. The low 
ceiling and uncovered timbers were thorough!}' scour- 
ed in the parlor, and the floor was cleaned and sanded. 
The large fire place was filled with evergreens gather- 
ed from the forest, which added a zest to the room, 
and the exterior of the building was neatly whitewash- 
ed, for Mr. Snadaker was making great preparations 
for the wedding. It was a beautiful day in the month 
of June, the loveliest of the year, and all was bustle 
around the old farm house. Fillis and Juda was dress- 
ing the poultry which had been killed for the occasion, 
and soon friends and neighbors were fast collecting, and 
the large lumber wagons were filling the yards. The 
ceremony was performed in the presence of a large 
assemblage ; the negro slaves occupying the rear. 
Susan and Hendrick were happily united, and after a 
sumptuous repast the affliir was ended. What a con- 
trast does such an occasion present to those of the pre- 
sent day, for then there were no expensive tours to 
Niagara, Newport and the White Mountains. No large 
sums of money expended for presents to the bride, nor 
costly gewgaws, as at the present day. 

Mr. and Mrs. Snadaker, Hendrick and Susan, have 
long since slept with their fathers, but it may be ask- 
ed, Where was the old farm house ? I said in a pre- 
vious part of my story that it formerly was located in 
a certain section in Dutchess county. A portion of it 



THE OLD FARM HOUSE. 231 

still exists. In one of the southern towns it can be 
seen standing and another story has been added to it. 
What tender recollections cluster around it, and how 
many happy hours have been spent in it. No fashion 
and luxury was there then to corrupt the people, no 
fashionable religion to contaminate them. Oh, return, 
return, those happy days of my ancestors. Would 
that I had lived in that happy golden age, and how 
often do I recall to mind the names of Mr. and Mrs. 
Snadaker, Susan and Hendrick, and the old Farm House. 



THE UNGRATEFUL FATHER, 



In the southern part of the County of Dutchess, 
there once lived a wealthy farmer, whose name was 
George Cushman. The farm that he occupied had 
been handed down from father to son for several gen- 
erations. It was admired by the traveler as he passed 
by it, for its high state of cultivation, and the beauty 
of its arrangement. The dwelling was tastefnlly loca- 
ted on a rising knoll sun-ounded with ornamental trees, 
beautiful lawns, and pleasant walks. 

Deacou Cushman, as he was called, had lived nearly 
to the age of three score years, without seeing mucli 
trouble. His hair, which in earlier years had been of 
a raven blackness, was now slightly silvered, his eye 
of bright blue, beamed with the expression of benevo- 
lence and good will, and for more than a quarter of a 
century he had been an ornament to society and to 
the church of which he was a member. He had mar- 
ried in early Hfe, and had but two children, a son Henry 
and a daughter Emma, she being the youngest, who 
had now arrived at the age of eighteen years, was the 
pride of her doting parents, and no pains had been 
spared in educating her, and giving her the best advan- 
tages. 

Mrs. Cushman was a descendant of one of the aristo- 



THE UNGRATEBX'L FATHER. 233 

cratic families of the county of Dutchess, and with 
inherited wealth and occupying a high station in soci- 
ety, she looked forward to the marriage of her daugh- 
ter to a lofty connection in life. She was her only 
daughter, and her whole happiness was centered in her. 

Near the residence of Mr. Cushman was a little vil- 
lage, in which lived a cabinet maker who was very 
poor ; and having a large family to support, he was 
obliged to work diligently. From early morn till late 
at night, he had toiled for years, and as he was some- 
thing of a politician, his friends had secured to him the 
postoffice, so that he managed to live comfortably. As 
he could not give his children any property, he made 
every exertion to give them an education. His eldest 
son, Isaac, being thus qualified for it, attended to the 
business of the office. Often would Deacon Cushman 
come to the postoffice with his letters, and he observed 
the ready dispatch with which Isaac mailed them, and 
as readily perceived that he was well qualified for bus- 
iness generally. 

The poor cabinet maker finding it necessary to have 
his children earn their living, one day asked Deacon 
Cushman, as he was sitting in his shop, if he could not 
employ his eldest son Isaac, he being now old enough 
to support himself, as the younger one could readily 
supply his place. Mr. Cushman replied favorably, and 
they soon agreed as to v^^hat Isaac should receive, and 
the following week he engaged in his service. 

Isaac was now about nineteen years of age, and as 
he had been instructed by pious parents, he was duti- 
ful and obedient. He was of a kind disposition and 
ardent temperament, and being social and agreeable 



234 THE UNGRATEFUL FATHER. 

in his manners, his society was courted by many. Mrs. 
Cushman often employed him in the garden, and he 
sometimes drove the carriage for her and Emma when 
they wished to make a call, and he was ever ready and 
wilhng to comply. 

Mr. Cushman's son was now from home studying 
for a profession, so that the services that Isaac thus 
rendered proved valuable, and an extension of his 
engagement was found to be desirable to the Cushman 
family, which was acceded to. 

On account of the high standing of the Cushman 
flimily, Emma was not permitted to associate with any 
of the young ladies in the village, though she visited 
some of the most noted families in the county, while 
a portion of her time w^as spent in the city. She did 
not inherit that high headed, aristocratic feeling of her 
parents ; she regarded character as the test of merit in 
selecting her companions in society. Her distinguish- 
ing trait w^as meekness, with a modest shrinking deli- 
cacy, which seemed to unfit her for the rude intercourse 
of the world. Her nature seemed moulded, indeed, by 
the secluded spot in which she had been matured, amid 
the shady stillness of the locust grove in w^hich their 
residence was situated, and to be in harmony with the 
delightful spot, and on many a pleasant evening would 
she and Isaac sit in that grove for hours, without the 
knowledge of her parents. 

She soon became ardently attached to him, though 
she did not let him know of the affection she cherished 
for him ; she knew that her parents would not consent 
for her to marry the son of a poor mechanic, while at 
the same time they could have no other objection. He 



THE UNGRATEFUL FATHER. 2^5 

had now lived with them for nearly two years, and 
had perfonned the various duties assigned him with 
perfect satisfaction. 

He, too, loved Emma fondly, though he entertained 
no idea of securing her, as he knew that she was an 
only daughter of wealthy parents, and he smothered 
his attachment, without daring to make it known to 
her. He regarded her favorable notice of him as noth- 
ing more than friendship. 

On one pleasant evening in September, Emma and 
Isaac were seated in the grove, when Emma plainly 
expressed her views and feelings, and declared that 
wealth and station had no charms for her, like the pos- 
session of intelligence and character. At these words 
Isjiac was agitated ; he looked up in her face and burst 
into tears, as he inquired of her if she could look with 
favor upon a poor young man of humble birth. To 
this she answered favorably, and declared her prefer- 
ence for him over those of higher pretensions, who 
moved in fashionable life. He told her that he was 
nothing but the son of a poor mechanic, and could not 
expect one hke herself could love such as himself, to 
which she rephed that she could readily share with him 
all the privations that they would be liable to meet 
with in this world, and that poverty was nothing of a 
dread to her. She added that her parents no doubt 
would object to their union, but she would seek to 
ascertain their feelings on the subject, as best she could, 
as she felt that she could be happy with no other. 
Isaac made no reply, and as the evening was advancing 
they separated. 

Isaac passed a sleepless night, and thought of the 



•236 THE UNGRATEFUL FATHER. 

high Station that Emma occupied in society, her noble 
birth and wealthy parents; he knew that they would be 
violently opposed to his marrying their only daughter, 
and he trembled to think of the decision of her parents. 

Deacon Cushman often sent Isaac to the postoffice 
of an evening for letters, and sometimes he would 
remain at home with his parents until morning, partic- 
ularly when there was nothing to carry back. But a 
few evenings had elapsed when he was thus despatch- 
ed to the postoffice, and if there should not be any let- 
ters he could remain home till morning. 

Emma while seated near her mother, as her father 
was busily engaged in reading, ventured to speak feel- 
ingly of Isaac, and as she betrayed considerable emo- 
tion, her mother perceived it and began to question 
her, when she revealed the secret at once, greatly to 
the astonishment of both her parents. 

Deacon Cushman dropped his book, and raising his 
spectacles, listened to Emma as she related to her par- 
ents the intimacy that had so long existed between her 
and Isaac, and the ardent attachment they cherished 
for each other. Cushman's hair appeared to stand on 
end, and his countenance denote anger, as he declared 
to Emma, that if she accepted that poor mechanic's 
son, she must leave his house forever, reminding her 
what pains lie had taken to educate her, of the high sta- 
tion she occupied in society, her noble birth and ances- 
try, and that now to think of marrying that poor 
mechanic's son was too much to endure. Her parents 
then endeavored to persuade her to think and deter- 
mine otherwise, but all was unavailing, and tlie father 
threatened to disinherit her, as a last resort. 



THE UNGRATEFUL FATHER. 237 

Isaac, while at home with his parents that night, 
could find no sleep ; he thought of Emma, and he 
dreaded to return again the next morning. At an ear- 
ly hour he went to his work in the garden, and he was 
not called in to breakfast with the family as formerly, 
but was obhged to eat with the domestics, and Mr. 
Cushman was cold towards him. He, moreover, went 
to the village and informed the cabinet maker that he 
should need Isaac's services no longer. The poor man 
was much surprised, as he supposed his son had done 
something wrong, though he could not think that Isaac 
had taken anything wrongfully, or proved himself dis- 
trustful, yet there was something that was not right 
and he was desirous at once of seeing him. Isaac soon 
returned and informed his father of the only difficulty 
that existed, and his father said that as he was of age 
he must take his own course in the matter. 

To prevent their further intercourse, Emma was sent 
to the city, and after she had been there a few days, 
she wrote to Isaac and informed him where she was, 
and it was not long before he joined her there, and the 
marriage ceremony w^as performed. Emma tlien wrote 
to her parents, informing them of this, and that she 
would soon leave with her husband, for a distant place. 

As Deacon Cushman read the letter to his wife she 
burst into tears, and her agony of mind was indescrib- 
able. Her only daughter had now left her, perhaps 
forever, She thought they had proved themselves 
ungrateful to her Emma, wlio had devotedly loved 
Isaac, and all the objection that could be brought 
against him was his being the son of a poor mechanic. 
She regretted that they had thus opposed their union. 



23S THE UNGUATEFUL FATHER. 

as they bad wealth abundant and Isaac was capable of 
managing the affairs of Mr. Cushman in the absence of 
his son Henry, who probably would remain from home 
for some length of time. Often would she sit alone 
and w^eep for her absent Emma, and deplore her depar- 
ture, but her husband said nothing, and not a murmur 
escaped his lips, not a tear moistened his eye. He was 
stern and haughty, and though he felt the infirmities 
of age, the same unbending will yet existed, and the 
same determination to disinherit bis daughter as when 
she first made known her intention. Emma and Isaac 
proceeded to one of the Southern States and stopped 
at a flourishing village where was a large manufactur- 
ing establishment, and upon taking up a paper, Isaac 
saw an advertisement for a clerk wanted in the same, 
and he recognized also the name of the advertiser as a 
firm well-known to him in his own county some time 
before. He quickly apphed and was not disiippointed. 
Mr. J. had been engaged in the manufacturing busi- 
ness in the county of Dutchess, and having failed, left 
for the South, where he was now doing a profitable 
business. Isaac made known to him his situation and 
he was readily employed. He soon rented a small 
house and as their funds were small, and his salary 
was moderate, they were obliged to live economically. 
After the first year his sei'vices were deemed indis- 
pensable, and his employers advanced his salary so as 
to enable him to live quite comfortably, and they found 
themselves pleasantly situated as to a home, and if her 
parents would but overlook her disobedience, Emma 
now felt that she would be quite happy. After hav- 
ing lived thus for about two years, Emma determined 



THE UNGRATEFUL FATHER. 239 

to write to her parents, though she was fearful that it 
might make matters worse, and while pondering it in 
her mind, Isaac came home one evening from his daily 
task and complained of being unwell, and although 
Emma paid every possible attention, and did all in her 
power to afford relief, he continued to grow worse and 
soon found himself unable to sit up. 

A physician was called in, who quickly perceived 
that he was very ill, and as he saw the anxiety of Em- 
ma, he withheld from her any intimation of the dan- 
gerous situation in which he found her husband. He 
had a violent fever, which proved of the typhus char- 
acter. Soon his case was evidently hopeless, and his 
wife's feelings can be better imagined than described, 
as she sat by the bedside of her dying liusband. He 
was mostly in a stupor, and his mind was so affected 
that he could only converse rationally at intervals; he 
would sometimes point significantly to his little boy, 
Georgie, sitting on his mother's lap, as if he would 
undertake to tell her something, but it was quite inin- 
telligible, and soon he closed his eyes in death. 

Mr. J. and Emma were the only persons in the 
room when Isaac breathed his last. Emma was in- 
consolable, and her cries were truly heartrending. Mr. 
J. endeavored to console her, but she would not be 
comforted, and for weeks after his death she was con- 
tinually weeping. Mr. J. advised her to return liome 
to her parents, assuring her that she would be received 
with kindness. 

The death of Isaac was now making rapid inroads 
on Ennna's constitution, from excessive grief, which 
]VIr. J. perceived, and as Isaac had sometliing coming 



240 THE UNGRATEFUL FATHER. 

to him, he persuaded her not to delay so doing, for she 
and her little boy needed kind protection; she con- 
sented, and he secured a passage for her to the city, 
where having arrived weak and exhausted, she took 
the first train for her early home. A friend assisted 
lier from the cars and helped her to the mail stage, 
which soon brought her to her own little village, when 
she was so feeble tliat she was obliged to be carried. 
It was in the evening when the stage arrived, and hav- 
ing informed the cabinet maker of the death of his son 
Isaac, he accompanied her to her parents' home. It 
w^as a cold bleak night in November, and the wind 
whistled through the tops of the tall locusts that stood 
around the stately mansion. Mrs. Cushman had retired 
for the niglit, and Deacon Cushman and his son Henry 
were sitting in the room alone, when the door bell 
rang. Upon learning that his daughter was thus at 
his door, Mr. Cushman haughtily ordered it closed 
against her, though he did not inform his son nor IVIrs. 
Cushman of Emma's arrival. He had a restless night, 
and in the morning a messenger informed him that his 
daughter was lying dangerously ill at the house of the 
poor cabinet maker. 

Mrs. Cushman and Henry repaired hastily to the 
village, and as they entered the little room where Em- 
ma lay, they were horror struck to find her on a poor 
bed without hangings, and she cast an imploring look 
upwards and said "Mother," and pointed to her little 
darling boy sitting on the cabinet maker's lap. She 
uttered a fow unintelligible words and lier lips ceased 
to move ; she was dead. Mrs. Cuslnnan fainted and 
fell senseless on the floor. 



THE UNGRATEFUL FATHER. 241 

Her remains were conveyed to the paternal man- 
sion, and had a decent burial, though during the 
mournful funeral obsequies the unfeeling father was 
not seen to shed a tear. Mrs. Cushman survived her 
daughter Emma but a few short months, and Deacon 
Cushman, who lived for some years after, was known 
as the Ungrateful Father. After his death his son 
Henry disposed of the estate and went to reside in 
some distant part, and the name became extinct in the 
southern part of the County of Dutchess, where it had 
been kept up so long with pride. 



THE TAILOR AND THE BACHELOR. 

In the south part of the county of Dutchess, is some 
of the best land in the State of New York. That por- 
tion lying in the valleys in East Fishkill is very pro- 
ductive, and under thorough cultivation it returns a 
rich reward to the husbandman. Dotted with beau- 
tiful country seats and stately farm houses, it presents 
to the eye of the traveler a fine appearance. Situated 
in the central part of one of these valleys is a httle vil- 
lage comprising about a hundred inliabitants. Like 
most Eastern villages its growth is slow. The dwell- 
ings of the wealthy are not extravagantly built, most 
of them being in the style of those that were put up 
about tht3 beginning of the present century, intended 
rather for comfort and convenience than elegance and 
display. In this village lived a bachelor who was quite 
wealthy. He had inherited more than one-third of his 
property ; he was a man of good habits, and the love 
of gain was his predominant passion. He cared for 
non^e but himself-, unsociable and arbitrary, he exer- 
cised tyranny over his tenants, which rendered him 
unpopular. He had rented one of his shops to a tailor 
who was very poor. The tailor had to work hard to 
support his family. He had met with a misfortune u 
having lost the use of one of his hand 



. which had 



THE TAILOR AND BACHELOR. 243 

incapacitated liiin for his business for more than three 
months, which was one cause of his getting behind- 
hand. His rent would soon be due, and he knew the 
bachelor would expect him to pay it promptly. The 
bachelor was unacquainted with the expenses of a fam- 
ily, and probably had never given it a thought, while 
the poor tailor had to exert all his energies to secure 
a living. Provisions were dear, and the tailor's last 
loaf was on the table. He went to his supper think- 
ing how he should pay his rent, as what little money 
he had he wanted to get necessaries for his family to 
subsist on. It was the early part of April, and the 
weather was cold, the Spring being uncommonly back- 
ward, and vegetation had scarcely commenced. Occa- 
sionally a snowbank was seen on the north side of the 
buildings, and in some obscure corner where the rays 
of the sun could not reach. The past winter had been 
one of extreme severity, and the snow had fallen eai-ly 
and deep, while the wind had whirled it in eddies and 
piled it up in huge masses along the streets, and around 
the dwellings of the villagers. The tailor had experi- 
enced the severity of the winter, and during the intense 
cold weather he had to use a great deal of fuel to keep 
his family comfortable. Sitting at the table, his wife 
noticed a change in his countenance; he ate but little, 
and soon took a seat by the fire, buried his face in his 
hands, and seemed to be deeply agitated. His wife 
observing this, asked him the cause of his sorrow. '^My 
dear," said he, "our rent is due next week, and Mr. P, 
will expect us to pay it." He could say no more, his 
voice failed him, he covered his face with his hands, 
and the gushing tears moistened his cheek. His wife 



244 THE TAILOR AND BACHELOR. 

saw with pain the upheavings of his 
well knew the bachelor's miserly disposition, and 
expected that he would show them no mercy. The 
sun was fast sinking in the west and its rays shone 
through the windows and shot its bright beams across 
the rag carpet in the little room where they sat. The 
tailor's wife was waiting on the little ones around the 
scanty table, the youngest lying in the cradle by the 
fire. It presently commenced crying, and the tailor 
made no effort to 23acify it. He arose from his seat, 
seized his hat, left the room and went to his shop. The 
April wind was sweeping through the village, and 
whistled around the shop of the tailor. He had just 
commenced his work, when the bachelor landlord 
entered. The tailor saw at once that he had a down- 
cast look and he commenced walking the floor with a 
hurried step. He had promised a certain amount of 
money and he was fearful that he could not fulfill his 
engagements. He asked the tailor if he could pay his 
rent the following week, and lie plainly told him that 
he could not. The severe winter, sickness and expen- 
sive living had used all his means, and now he had not 
sufficient to buy bread for his family. The landlord 
said he "could not afford to build houses and shops 
and have people occupy them for nothing. Materials 
and labor were high, and to receive no rent for his 
buildings was something he would not submit to. You 
must pay me the rent next week, if not I will send an 
officer that will drive you from the premises." The 
tailor made no reply, but thought of his wife and little 
ones. Although it was not necessary for mechanics 
to work at night at this season of the year, yet the 



THE TAILOR AND i3ACHEL0R. 245 

tailor plied his needle earnestly and worked later than 
usual, his eye fixed intently on his work. The bache- 
lor seated himself in a large arm chair by the stove, 
biting his finger nails, and appearing in deep medita- 
tion. A deathlike silence pervaded the room for some 
time, when the bachelor told him the rent must be paid 
the next Tuesday or the premises must be vacated, and 
he then left the shop. The tailor worked until ten 
o'clock, and then went to his home. The moon was 
now at its full, and shone brightly in the windows. As 
he entered he saw his wife engaged in patching an old 
garment by a small light in one corner of the room. 
The tailor opened his Bible and read the twenty-third 
Psalm, which reminded him of his own situation, when 
David saith, "He maketh me to lie down in green pas- 
tures, He leadeth me beside the still waters." He 
prayed that like the psalmist of old, he might be made 
to lie down in green pastures, and be led beside the 
still waters ; that the bachelor's heart might be soften- 
ed, that what he had said might sink deep in his soul, 
and that he might shed penitential tears over his past 
doings. He hoped that the gospel balm might so ren- 
ovate his heart that his name would at last be found 
in the records of eternal mercy. The next day a friend 
kindly offered him a part of his house, and bade him 
not communicate the flict to any one. He had no 
interview with the bachelor again until the first of 
May, who was disappointed when he saw the tailor 
busily engaged in moving what little goods he had to 
Mr. A.'s. He said nothing, but appeared to regret 
what he had said. Wliat few friends he once had in 
the village had now forsaken him, though he was very 



246 THE TAILOR AND BACHELOR. 

fond of company, and to live without friends, to have 
no one in time of trouble to come near him to wipe 
away the trickling tear that rolled down his cheek, 
no one to pour the oil and wine of consolation in his 
bosom, was sometliing that filled him with despair. 
Under circumstances like these his situation was pe- 
culiarly afflicting. To manifest any contrition for past 
deeds was something his proud spirit could not brook. 
He went from store to shop, but he could find no 
friends there. His other tenants, too, talked of leav- 
ing him, and upon reflection he resolved to sell his 
village property. He advertised it for sale at auction. 
It was sold at a reduced price and the bachelor left 
for one of the Western States, and there we leave him 
for the present. The tailor again rented the same 
shop of the new owner. By diligence in business he 
was enabled to pay the rent and have something left. 
In a few years he was able to buy the shop, which he 
enlarged, opened a large clothing establishment, and 
business increased so rapidly that in a few years he 
purchased the homestead of the bachelor, also tore 
down the old edifice, built a splendid mansion in the 
place of it, and as he accumulated wealth, he beauti- 
fied the grounds, set out ornamental trees, fenced it 
with iron railing, and surrounded it with everything 
that luxury could desire. The tailor, after some years, 
beginning to get old, thought of retiring from busi- 
ness, and as property had doubled in value since he 
had been in business, he sold his store for a large 
advance, and lived the remainder of his days on the 
homestead of the bachelor, enjoying all the comforts 
that this life affords. The villagers all loved the tailor, 



THE TAILOR AND BACHELOR. 247 

and he often invited them to his hospitable mansion to 
partake of the rich dainties, and to enjoy themselves 
in his parks and pleasure grounds. 

Reader, would you hke to know^ what has become 
of the lone bachelor ? He lived yet in a Western vil- 
lage, where he never let it be known who he was or 
where he came from. He purchased a tract of land, 
held possession of it a few years, when a claim came 
against it, and after a year's litigation the claim was 
proved to be a good one. Mortified and chagrined at 
the loss of his property, he strove to regain it, but in 
this he failed. The bachelor in despair lived alone in 
a small hut in the suburbs of the village, supporting 
himself in doing a little business for some of the villa- 
gers, and by a small office they gave him out of chari- 
ty. Years had now rolled away, and his native place 
had not heard from him while his name was almost 
forgotten. The tailor often thought of him and desired 
to see him before he died, but the bachelor had made 
up his mind never to return. Often would he shut 
himself up in his hut and think of his native home and 
give vent to his tears. He had now arrived at the 
age of fourscore years and his desire to return thither 
increased. He thought if he could see it once again 
he would be willing to die. But would he find any 
friends there ? Would he be likely to be known there 
after a lapse of so many years ? Such thoughts as 
these filled his soul with intense agony, but to die 
there he must. He took a confidential friend to his 
hut and told him all his misfortunes, liow he was 
nursed in the lap of wealth, how unpopular he be- 
came, how he sold his property at a reduced price, 



•248 THE TAILOR AND BACHELOR. 

came here and bought and lost his all, and he was 
now on the verge of the grave. He hoped • that he 
had atoned for his past offences and had made his 
peace with Heaven, and now he wished to go home, 
as he termed it, and there to die. This friend exerted 
himself and raised money enough to take the bachelor 
to his native place. The bachelor took his departure 
as soon as circumstances would permit, and with tot- 
tering steps he got in the car, and in a short time was 
in the County of Dutchess. The stage soon rolled 
him to his native village. He refused to be taken to 
any particular place, and was let out on the sidewalk. 
It was now in the month of September, and the heat 
was oppressive. His eye scanned the village, and he 
saw the old homestead in the distance, but instead of 
the old wooden building he now saw a splendid man- 
sion reared in its stead, and as he drew near with fal- 
tering step he ventured to approach it ; a thrill of 
horror penetrated his soul. The tailor had just taken 
his dinner, and was smoking a cigar in his woodbine 
alcove. The bachelor opened the iron gate, walked 
up on the porch and pulled the bell for admission. A 
servant came and he asked who hved there. He was 

told it was a Mr. , the tailor, upon which he fell 

insensible on the porch. The tailor hearing an unus- 
ual noise, hastened to the spot and ordered the old 
man taken in and laid upon a sofa in the hall. He 
sent the servant to bring a glass of wine and water, 
and with little difficulty the bachelor revived. He 
asked the tailor if he knew him, who said no. He told 
him he was his former landlord. So surprised was he 
that both burst into a flood of tears, and for some min- 



THE TAILOR AND BACHELOR. 249 

utes not a word was spoken. After recovering a little, 
the bachelor was so overcome that he desired to lie 
down for a while, and he was soon supplied with re- 
freshments. The tailor anticipated much pleasure the 
next day in the society of his guest. It was late next 
moraing, however, before he would allow him to be 
disturbed, when he sent to his room to tell him that 
breakfast was awaiting him. No answer was had, and 
on going once again with noiseless step, the tailor ap- 
proached the bed, but the bachelor was no more ; he 
was sleeping the sleep which knows no waking. 



A TALE OF THE EARLY SETTLERS, 

FOUNDED ON FACT. 

About the beginning of the eighteenth centui-y, 
what are now known as tlie towns of Fishkill and 
East Fishkill, were a vast wilderness. The tract of 
land purchased by Francis Ronibout of the great In- 
dian Sachem Ninhain, included the original town of 
Fishkill, extending from the Hudson River east sixteen 
miles, or four hours walk of an Indian. Rombout had 
an only daughter who married a person of tlie name 
of Brett, and settled on the patent on the banks of the 
noble Hudson. At the death of her father she became 
sole heir to the patent. The great Sachem and his 
tribe were allowed by her to occupy that portion of it 
now called Fishkill Hook. This tribe at one time 
numbered more than a thousand warriors, but from 
the encroachments of the white man on their territory, 
and mingling with the tribe, thus introducing intoxi- 
cating drinks and various contagious diseases hitherto 
unknown among them, they were soon reduced to 
about half that numbei-. 

A squatter of the name of Langdon located about 
this time on the patent, and but a little distance from 
the Indian village. He had a son of the name of Jaco- 



THE EARLY SETTLERS. 251 

bus, who had emigrated with him from Long Island, 
and they together commenced the work of leveling 
the forest and cultivating the soil for a livelihood. 
Young Langdon was a mere youth of fifteen years, and 
had come with his father to share the privations and 
hardships of the wilderness. He assisted in felling the 
mighty oak and lofty pine that had braved the storms 
and winds of centuries, and after finishing their log 
cabin and eftecting a clearing sufficient to supply them 
with food, and securing an enclosure for their cattle to 
protect them from beasts of prey, Jacobus and his 
father would occasionally take their guns and go into 
the forest in quest of game. The sharp crack of their 
rifles would often stop the bounding deer, and start 
the prowling wolf that infested their plantation. 

The Herald of the Cross had not yet been on his 
errand of mercy above the Highlands, except perhaps 
at Albany, where there was then a missionary station, 
supplied by a minister of the Reformed Dutch Church, 
whose name was Megapolensis, and who was the first 
minister that sailed up the Hudson river. Langdon 
had been brought up and educated in this church, and 
when he resided on Long Island, as often as the blessed 
Sabbath returned, the sound of the bell would summon 
him to hsten to the preaching of the Gospel. 

Now, however, living here in the rude wilderness, 
where no ambassador of Christ had yet ever been, his 
Sabbaths brought him little or no true enjoyment. 
The nearest church to liim was some miles below the 
village of Peekskill, and he resolved to go there and 
worship as often as circumstances would in any way 
permit. 



252 THE EAKLY SETTLERS. 

On one Saturday afternoon, after giving his son 
Jacobus instructions with regard to the proper care of 
the sheep and cattle, and enjoining him to drive them 
early into the enclosure for fear of the wild beasts, he 
mounted his horse, shouldered his rifle, struck an Indian 
trail, and soon disappeared in the depths of the forest. 
Jacobus went early to look for the cattle, and in doing 
so he penetrated the woods nearly to the Indian vil- 
lage. As he was standing under the thick branches 
of a large pine, he suddenly saw a beautiful Indian 
girl paddling hei- little canoe on the Wiccapee, a stream 
of water but a little distance from the settlement. She 
was the daughter of the Sachem, and had come thus 
to amuse herself in her little vessel, built of birchen 
bark, with a net which her father had given hei- to fish 
in its limpid waters. Thus would she pass hours, as 
weU as in angling in the shade, upon its verdant banks, 
and dream away her life in pleasant solitude, for being 
a woman of high birth, with the Indian maidens of tlie 
tribe she had little or no congeniality. Her occupa- 
tion and pursuits were in a measure like theirs, yet 
her mind was above them, and although like them she 
could clamber the steep sides of the mountain, or swim 
Hke a mermaid in the waters ; though she even excelled 
them in the curing of venison, and could prepare the 
evening meal of corn bread and fish with more tlian 
ordinary skill, yet there her common interest ended. 
In her rambles through the forest she was ever found 
alone, for thus she held more sweet communion with 
nature, and her free thoughts were echoed back by 
the woods and streams with which she thus held 
converse. 



THE EARLY SETTLERS. 253 

Jacobus eyed the Indian girl as she plied the paddle 
and sped her canoe along the water. Her waist was 
encircled with a crimson scarf, and over her back hung 
a quiver of arrows and a bow, while a moose skin of 
the finest texture lay gracefully over her shoulders. 

It was the first time he had seen the Indian maiden 
Mantaseo. He had been with his father to the Indian 
village, but he had never entered the wigwam of the 
Sachem. He now cautiously approached the banks 
of the stream, and Mantaseo saw him as he advanced, 
and pushed her canoe ashore. She kindly asked him 
in broken EngHsh whither he was going, when he told 
her he was looking for the sheep and cattle to drive 
them early to the enclosure, as his father had gone to 
church below the mountains. Jacobus then stepped 
into the canoe and Mantaseo carried him across the 
water. She admired the pale face as the breezes of 
the Wiccapee were sifting through the clustering curls 
that hung over his forehead. The sun was getting 
low in the west, and the tall trees threw^ their long 
shadows over the water, when Jacobus said he must 
leave and complete his errand, as the howling of the 
wolves was distinctly heard through the forest. Man- 
taseo retraced her steps homeward, and as she left she 
cast a wistful look at the pale hunter, as she called 
him, for he had already made an indelible impression 
on her heart. One low whisper from him now would 
be as nectar to her, and far more pleasant than the 
soft munnurs of the Wiccapee. 

She preferred to hearken to his words rather than to 
sit dreamily listening to the ripple of its currents, or 
to slumber on its banks listening to the music of its 



2-54 THE EARLY SETTLERS. 

lullaby, and now how intensely full of interest became 
her life 5 henceforth to watch for his footsteps, to ram- 
ble with him over the mountain path and through the 
leafy forest, to sit beside him under the spreading 
shade of some broad armed tree, and drink in even as 
the flowers drink the dew, the tender accents so mu- 
sically low, to catch his burning glances, calling the 
crimson tide from her heart, and to feel his warm 
breath on her cheek, as his lips met hers, was now the 
glorious dream of her being. 

Jacobus tarried longer than he intended with tlie 
Indian girl, and found that it was getting late. His 
mother was alone, and he knew she would be alarmed 
for his safety. He hurried through the woods to find 
the sheep and cattle. The tinkling of the bell soon 
guided him to where they were grazing, and he soon 
got them safe in the enclosure. The country at that 
time was but sparsely settled, and there were but few 
white ftimilies on the patent, and they were mostly 
squatters. To get to Long Island, through the inte- 
rior, was difficult and dangerous, as there were tribes 
of hostile Indians roving through the country, and to 
uo by way of the river was tedious and uncertain, as 
tliere were no vessels that regularly stopped between 
New York and Albany. The only way for the traveler 
when he espied a sail was to hoist a signal on the 
shore, and this was the only means of travel. 

This difficulty caused Jacobus' visits to his birth- 
place to be few and ftir between, and a trip to Long 
Island then was hke going to the unsettled West now. 
He spent most of his time with his parents, working 
hard to clear the ground of heavy timber, and what 



THE EARLY SETTLERS. 255 

leisure hours he had, he would hunt in the forest, or 
fish in the Wiccapee. While engaged in such employ- 
ments he would meet the Indian girl Mantaseo, and 
she delighted in assisting in taking the trout and win- 
fish that abounded in the waters. At other times she 
would amuse him in showing her skill wjth the bow, 
in shooting the arrow at a mark. Months and years 
passed away and Jacobus never let his parents know 
his intimacy with the Indian girl. At an appointed 
time he had promised to meet her in the forest, where 
she declared the attacliment she had for him since she 
first saw him, and that if he cherished the same for 
her, desired to know if he would be willing to marry 
her. Jacobus at once assented, provided she would 
renounce her Pagan superstition and live a civilized 
and a Christian life, and to this she readily consented. 

After Jacobus parted with Mantaseo he thought 
what his parents would say when they should hear 
that he was engaged to an Indian girl. But could 
they have any objection when she had promised to 
leave savage life and embrace the true rehgion. But 
she was of a different race. He recollected reading in 
the Scripture that all descended from one common 
parent, and were aiming for one Heaven. And then, 
too, she was a daughter of the Sachem. Such thoughts 
as these occupied his mind as he returned home. His 
father was a descendant of the Hollanders, but his 
mother was an English woman. What education he 
had received was mostly from her. She had taught 
him to pray, and to him nothing was so deep as a 
mother's love. 

Indulging in such thoughts as these his tears fell 



2o{i THE EARLY SETTLERS. 

like raindrops, and he knelt beside a large tree and 
prayed to the Griver of all good to comfort and sus- 
tain him. 

The country had now considerably improved. Em- 
igrants were coming in, and Madam Brett had suc- 
ceeded in opening a road from her residence east to the 
foot of the mountain, and there was a missionary 
station on the patent, w^here Fishkill Village is now 
located, supplied by a Reformed Dutch minister of 
the name of Van Schie, and he was the first minister 
that preached in Fishkill. He was located at what is 
now Poughkeepsie city, and once a fortnight he would 
preach at his station on the patent. Langdon esteem- 
ed it a great privilege to have the gospel thus preached 
so near him, and when the appointed time arrived for 
service, he and his wife would always be found there. 
The manner of traveling through the country at that 
time was upon a pillion. Wheel carriages w ere not in 
use. By this mode the horse could be guided so as to 
avoid fallen trees and sunken holes. 

On one fine Sabbath morning, when the appointed 
time had arrived for the Dominie to preach, Langdon 
had gone to church, leaving Jacobus at home to look 
after the plantation, and on their return they were 
greeted by a stranger in their cabin. It was the In- 
dian girl Mantaseo, who was now dressed in civihzed 
costume, while her long dark hair flowed gracefully 
over her shoulders. She w^as sitting by the window 
with the Bible in her hand, endeavoring to read it, 
when Langdon entered. Jacobus introduced her as 
the Sachem's daughter, whom he had brought here 
while they were absent, because he felt a deep inter- 



THE EARLY SETTLERS. 257 

est in her welfare, and he intended also to take her as 
his companion for life. He then related to his parents 
the intimacy that had existed between them for years 
gone by, the many happy honrs they had spent alone, 
hunting in the forest and fishing in the Wiccapee, and 
assured them of the ardent attachment they cherished 
for each other, and that now she had promised to 
leave tlie wigwam of her parents to unite herself with 
him and live a Christian life, and desired to know if 
they could have any objection to such a union. His 
mother said not a word as she sat in a corner of the 
cabin, resting her head upon her hands, while the 
tears were trickhng down her cheeks. His father de- 
lighted in tlie happiness of his son, and as she was 
the daughter of the Sachem^ and had promised to live 
a Christian life, he readily consented. 

It was a fine afternoon in the month of October, 
when Jacobus and his parents were sitting in their 
cabin, anxiously awaiting the arrival of a certain per- 
sonage. All was calm without, and not a cloud ob- 
scured the horizon ; the sun was just disappearing 
behind the western mountains, and its rays tinged the 
the top of the forest and reflected brightly o'er their 
scarlet leaves, when a horseman was seen approach- 
ing. He wore a large cocked hat and with a heavy 
coat wrapped around him, he rode up to the cabin 
and dismounted. It was no other than Dominie Van 
Schie. The marriage ceremony soon took place, in 
the presence of his parents, and of the Sachem Nin- 
ham. Jacobus soon after purchased a farm* of Madam 

*The farm is the one now owned by Joseph Sherwood at 
Johnsville. 



2oS THE EARLY SETTLERS. 

Brett, and with his wife became members of the Dutcii 
Church at Fishkill Village as soon as it was organized, 
and lived the remainder of their days on the farm they 
had purchased, and died, as I trust, in the hope of a 
blessed immortality. 



HE MYSTERIOUS PACK. 



About forty years ago there lived in Greenwich 
street New York, a wealthy retired merchant who had 
accumulated property during the distracted state of 
our country with England, in the war of 1812. The 
financial crisis which then occurred, causing a general 
crash among the merchants, proved a source of profit 
to him, for at the close of the war merchandise depre- 
ciated nearly half its former price. He then purchased 
a large amount of goods, and realized large profits 
from the sales, which in a few years enabled him to 
retire from the business. Mr. Alger, for that was his 
name, had been born and reared in the city, and had 
now arrived at the age of three score years. He wished 
to spend the few remaining years of his life in the 
country. 

Western New York, then presented great attractions 
to the inhabitants in the eastern counties of the state. 
The sturdy pioneers had partially cleared the forest, 
and the description of the country given by the historian 
was very inviting, particularly the Genesee country. 
The richness of the soil, the salubrity of the climate, 
and the healthfulness of the country, all contributed to 
the increase of emigration. Mr. Alger having purchas- 
ed a map of the country, and read a description given 



260 THE MYSTERIOUS PACK. 

by a traveler passing through the country to Niagara 
Falls, he concluded to visit the country. According- 
ly, in the Spring of 1823, Mr. Alger left the city of 
New York for the G-enesee country, which then con- 
sumed more time to reach than it would now to go to 
Chicago, for the facilities for traveling west from 
Albany were only the stage coach and canal. Railroads 
then had not been introduced. Arriving in the Gen- 
esee country, Mr. Alger was highly pleased. The fer- 
tility of the soil, the balminess of the atmosphere, 
and the healthy climate, were a strong inducement for 
Mr. Alger to locate there. Accordingly he purchased 
a large tract of land there and returned to the city, 
and the following Autumn he removed his family on 
the farm he had purchased. Mr. Alger lived through 
the winter in an old log house which had been built 
by a pioneer when the country was entirely new. He 
managed to make it comfortable for himself and 
family during the winter. Early in the Spring Mr. 
Alger sent to New York for a number of mechanics, 
who promptly responded to his call, and the following 
summer he erected a splendid mansion and furnished 
it equal to any residence in Greenwich street, in the 
city of New York. When Mr. Alger left New York 
the wealth and fashion of the city was below the Park, 
and Greenwich street contained the residences of some 
of the most wealthy merchants in ihe city. Mr. 
Alger's house there was most elegantly furnished, and 
he concluded to furnish his new residence equal to, if 
not excelling it. This astonished the natives, for they 
had not been accustomed to see such splendor, for 
wealth and fashion had not then reached Western 



THE MYSTERIOUS PACK. 261 

New York. Mr. Alger's house contained a large 
amount of silver plate, which was very valuable, and 
splendid mirrors and paintings that were suspended on 
the side walls of his mansion, which he gave his neigh- 
bors permission occasionally to look at, little suspect- 
ing that a plot was secretly planning to rob and murder 
him. Mr. Alger employed many laborers to cultivate 
his large farm, and keep his premises in order. 

The country yet was comparatively new, large 
forests were interspersed through the valleys, untouched 
by the woodman's axe. Trees standing so thick that 
no wheeled carriage could enter, and some of them 
reaching to the height of one hundred feet, making 
the forest dark and gloomy, affording a safe retreat to 
the robber. Mr. Alger did not apprehend any danger 
living there. He was quite remote from any neigh- 
bor, and he enjoyed himself in that seclusion very 
much, for the health of his family was much improved, 
and although accustomed to city life, his retirement 
from the din and bustle of the great metropolis, con- 
tributed more to his happiness than the luxury and 
fiishion of Grreenwich street. Having lived there more 
than two years, Mr. Alger and family concluded to 
pay a visit to the city, and making all necessary 
arrangements, he gave his servants strict orders not to 
keep any travelers over night. He assigned to them 
their portion of the work, and to secure the house 
and outbuildings. Every door of the premises was care- 
fully guarded. After Mr. Alger had given his domes- 
tics their instructions as to taking care of the valuables 
in the house, having as he thought safely secured the 
silver plate, he and his family took the stage for 



262 THE MYSTERIOUS PACK. 

Albany. Mr. Alger's servants guarded liis premises 
with the greatest care, and admitted no neighbor in 
the house. Mr. Alger had been absent about a week, 
when a traveler approached the house late in the day, 
with a large pack on his back, asking permission to 
stay all night. A female servant informed him that 
he could not, as the owner of the mansion had gone 
to New York on a visit with his family, and would 
not return in two weeks, and he gave strict orders to 
keep no one through the night. The traveler appear- 
ed to be weary, and said that he was very tired, that 
his pack was very heavy, and that his strength was 
not sufficient for him to walk with his pack to the 
nearest neighbor's to obtain a night's lodging. It was 
in the month of October, and the atmosphere was 
chilly and raw, and the traveler still persisted, but the 
domestic sternly refused. The traveler still tarried, 
and she sent for Richard, the foreman, and informed 
him of the traveler's wish to stay all night. Richard 
reiterated the same story, informing the traveler that 
he must leave immediately. The traveler lifted the 
pack with great difficulty, and succeeded in regaining 
the yard and deposited his burden, saying that he 
could proceed no farther, and at the same time asking 
permission to leave his pack, and he then could walk 
to the nearest neighbor and remain all night, and re- 
turn in the morning for it. If they would consent to 
that proposition they might lock the pack in a room, 
as he had valuable goods in it, and then it would be 
perfectly safe. Richard seeing the weariness of the 
traveler, and thinking the pack could do no harm, con- 
sented to let the pack remain there all night. 



THE MYSTERIOUS PACK. 263 

It was now near sunset, and the traveler left. Rich- 
ard carried the pack into an unoccupied room. The 
servants had done their accustomed work as directed 
by the foreman, and at supper he informed them of 
the traveler's pack he had consented to keep until 
morning. Their curiosity became excited to see it, 
which the foreman readily consented, and taking the 
key unlocked the door. The pack lay in the middle 
of the room on the floor. One of the servants remarked 
that it was shaped like a man. Another swore that 
lie saw it move. This alarmed Richard, and all of the 
inmates of the house. Finally, after some moment's 
conversation, one of the workmen said that he would 
put a ball through it if Richard would only let him. 
Richard said yes, as quick as thought. Joe had a 
loaded rifle in his bedroom which he lost no time in 
getting, and taking deliberate aim he fired, the ball 
passing through the pack, and in a few moments it was 
crimsoned with blood. 

Richard taking a knife ripped open the pack, and 
to his astonishment it contained a man. The ball had 
passed through his heart. Richard then examined the 
pack and found talse keys. The dead man had a belt 
on stuck with pistols and cutlass, and the pack con- 
tained various other instruments of death. Richard 
and the whole household now were much alarmed, and 
what course to pursue he did not know. The day 
was spent, and darkness was fast approaching, but no 
time was to be lost. Richard and Joe, each mounting 
a horse, proceeded to alarm the neighbors. Taking 
different routes they succeeded in collecting about six- 
teen men and guns at the house by ten o'clock. A 



'2G4: THE MYSTERIOUS PACK. 

strict watch was kept through the night, but no rob- 
bers had made their appearance. Richard concluded 
that there was a deep plot laid to murder the inmates, 
and then rob the house. He was determined to defend 
the premises and sacrifice his life if necessary. Joe, 
too, was eager to get a clue .to the traveler's pack. 
The man in the pack, thought Ricliard, was the one 
to commence the robbery. His false keys were in- 
tended to open the door of the room where the pack 
was deposited, and then his accomplices would be no- 
tified, and they would probably murder the inmates, 
rob the house, and set it on fire. Richard succeeded 
in getting his neighbors to hold guard over the premises 
the second night. Among other articles that Richard 
discovered in the pack was a whistle which he blew 
the second night about one o'clock. Presently the 
tramp of horses was heard at a distance and Richard 
summoned every man to be ready to fire. The night 
was dark and cloudy, and darkness reigned throughout 
the house, for Ricliard had taken the precaution to 
have no light burning. The robbers no doubt thought 
that they had succeeded in their attempt, for they 
came hurrying up to the door, supposing their friend 
in the pack had possession of the house. But how 
sadly they were disappointed. Richard gave the word 
to fire, and it had the desired effect, for tliey heard 
several fall from their horses. They beat a precipitate 
retreat, and all was still. Ricliard would not allow 
any one to open a door or leave the house, but with 
guns reloaded they remained there until morning. 
After daylight Richard cautiously unlocked the door 
and looking out he saw three men and two horses lying 



THE MYSTERIOUS PACK. 265 

dead in the yard. Upon examining the dead bodies 
they proved to be strangers. 

The three robbers and the two horses that were shot 
lay there during the day and the following night, when 
Richard blew the whistle again, but no robbers made 
their appearance, for Richard and his neighbors were 
well prepared to receive them. But what was their 
surprise when morning came to see that the robbers 
who were shot the night previous, had been carried 
off so noiselessly that none that watched through the 
night knew anything of it till morning. 

Richard secured the services of these men to guard 
the house every night until Mr. Alger and family re- 
turned, and no further attempt was made to rob the 
house. When Mr. Alger returned and heard the story 
as related by Richard, and was shown the room where 
the robber was shot, the blood still visible on the floor, 
the place where they had buried him, the pack, the 
brace of pistols, the cutlass, the whistle and the false 
keys that the pack contained, he and his family were 
very much alarmed. He immediately organized a 
company to search the country, and they traversed 
the forest for miles in various directions, every thicket 
and secret nook was explored, but no clue could be 
obtained. It has always remained a mystery. The 
traveler and the robbers all escaped detection, and the 
stranger has often been shown the mansion which con- 
tained the mysterious pack. Mr. Alger handsomely 
rewarded his neighbors for their services in guarding 
his premises, and he gave Richard and Joe a sum suffi- 
cient to purchase new lands and to secure them a 
comfortable home for life. 



TEN CENTS A DAY. 

It was the commencement of Autumn, and farmer 
Brown had secured his summer crops of wheat and 
hay, and now he was preparing his fallow ground for 
sowing his winter grain. The season so far had been 
propitious, and farmer Brown was well rewarded for 
his labor. His family and workmen had toiled hard 
through the long hot days of summer, and they had 
filled his barns with grain and hay, and he anticipated 
an abundant crop of corn. 

Farmer Brown had commenced life with nothing. 
He was the son of poor though honest parents, and he 
had earned his property by patient though stubborn 
industry. Marrying in early life, he had to contend 
with poverty, working as a laborer on a farm for 
twelve or fifteen dollars per month. He could save 
but little at the end of the year, but that little was 
carefully saved, for when he was quite a lad he was 
sitting in the store in his native village one evening, 
listening to three of the older men of the village. The 
conversation turned upon the accumulation of prop- 
erty. One man remarked that ten cents a day saved, 
with the interest added, would amount to the sum of 
ten thousand dollars in forty years. He thought to 
himself, "I am yet in my teens, and if I should live 



TEN CENTS A DAY. 267 

till I arrive at the age of sixty years, I can save ten 
thoiisand dollars. I use tobacco, and often smoke two 
or three cigars a day, and that uses up the ten cents," 
and he just threw away his pipe and tobacco and went 
to work, and every night laying aside his ten cents, 
and at the end of the year he had thirty-six dollars and 
fifty cents. Farmer Brown continued to save ten cents 
a day and safely investing the money, he purchased 
the farm alluded to in the commencement of this story, 
before he was forty years old. He was now sixty 
years old, and though his hair was silvered, his step 
was firm and elastic as ever. He had outstripped all 
of his associates in the accumulation of property, for 
he had saved his ten cents a day. That ten cents had 
laid the foundation of his wealth. "It is not," said 
he, ''what a man earns, but what he saves, that is the 
true secret of making money." 

Fanner Brown was now pleasantly situated on one 
of the most valuable farms in Western New York, 
with an interesting family around him, trained to hab- 
its of industry and economy. There he had resided 
twenty years, and had become rich in lands and flocks, 
and was steadily increasing in wealth. His children 
had now relieved him of the cares and business of hfe, 
for they had the supervision of his large estate. 

Fanner Brown was sitting one day in the month of 
June in his dooryard, reading, and enjoying all the 
comforts that is allotted to man in this world, for it 
was the lovehest season of the year. He dropped his 
book and surveyed his premises. He had just built a 
stately mansion, and had surrounded it with beautiful 
ornamental trees, lawns and pleasant walks. His mind 



208 TEX CENTS A DAY. 

reverted to his native village, the time when he heard 
the story that ten cents saved a day with interest added^ 
would amount to the sum of ten thousand dollars in 
forty years, and that ten cents a day had amassed him 
a fortune. He thought of his associates that resided 
there when he was a youth, wondering if they still 
lived there, when his attention was suddenly arrested 
by a stranger entering his gate, calling him by name 
as he approached him, and asking how he got along. 
Farmer Brown replied that he had the advantage of 
him, for he could not recognize him. The stranger 
said that his name was Mr. C, formerly living in the 
village of S. Mr. Brown then immediately knew him, 
for they were born in the same village, and after the 
customary salutations were passed, the conversation 
turned to passing events and the history of their jour- 
ney through life from their boyhood to the present 
time, for they had not seen each other for more than 
thirty years. Mr. Brown then related the history of 
his life since leaving his native village, and how long 
he had resided there in Western New York ; and the 
large tract of land he now owned, and now he owed 
no man a cent. Mr. C. surveyed the premises, his eye 
glanced over the fields of wheat stretching through the 
valley and up the hillside, his dark green corn waving 
to the breeze, his Hocks of cattle and slieep, his man- 
sion, his outbuildings, his lawns and ornamental trees, 
all attracted his attention. When ]\[r. Brown informed 
him that he was the owner of all that property, Mr. 0. 
anxiously inquired how he came in possession of so 
much wealth. Mr. Brown replied, "By saving ten 
cents a day." Mr. C. could not comprehend his mean- 



TEN CENTS A DAY. J269 

ing. Mr. Brown then informed him of the story that 
he heard related wlien he was a boy in his native vil- 
lage, that ten cents a day saved, with the interest 
added, in forty years would amount to the sum of ten 
thousand dollars, and he thought to himself, "I am not 
yet twenty years old, and can I save ten cents a day, 
and if I should live till I get sixty years old, will it 
amount to ten thousand dollars ? I use tobacco, and 
often I smoke two or more cigars a day, and that will 
cost me ten cents ; and from that time until now I 
have not used tobacco nor drank a glass of liquor only 
for medicine. I commenced then saving ten cents 
a day, and with the proceeds of that money I pur- 
chased this farm before I arrived at the age of forty 
years, and now own all the land within sight through 
this valley." Mr. C. contrasted his situation witli Mr. 
Brown's, for he was worth nothing. "I have used no 
tobacco," thought he to himself, "but then I have 
drank my glass three or four times a day for nearly 
half a century ; that, with the interest added, would 
now have placed me beyond the reach of want, and if 
I had been industrious and economical as Mr. Brown, 
and saved my ten cents a day, I might now be the 
owner of a farm valuable as his." As he sat absorbed 
in deep thought he was much affected, and then he 
related to Mr. Brown the history of his life, how he 
commenced tippling before he was out of his teens, 
the money and time he had wasted, the bad habits he 
had formed in youth still clung to him in after life so 
strong that he could not eradicate them, and now he 
was incapacitated for labor, and nothing now remained 
for him in the world but poverty and remorse. By 



270 TEN CENTS A DAY. 

this time Mr. Brown's family had gathered roiiiul him, 
and they heard Mr. C. relate his story, and saw the 
tears roll down his cheeks. His person was dirty and 
meanly clad, and his baggage consisted of a bundle of 
old clothes, which he carried across his shoulder, rest- 
ing on a stick. His poverty-stricken appearance, his 
haggard countenance, his long snowy locks and falter- 
ing step, caused Mr. Brown and his family to be deeply 
moved. Mr. C. was traveling through the country on 
foot, begging for subsistence. He had commenced 
life under more favorable circumstances than Mr. 
Brown, for he was a good mechanic, earning a dollar 
and a quarter a day, but forming bad habits in early 
life and increasing as he advanced in years, brought 
him to poverty and shame. Ceaseless dissipation re- 
quires large resources, and the young man that steps 
aside from the path of virtue and sobriety and is grad- 
ually drawn into the haunts of vice, in nine cases out 
of ten is irrevocably lost. If he gets in the gutter be- 
fore he is twenty-one, seldom does he come out of the 
mire and corruption, for habits formed in our youth 
generally go with us through life. How necessary 
then it is for us to form good habits in youth. Oh, how 
my heart has yearned for that young man when I have 
seen him gradually yielding to temptation. Step by 
step has he been drawn into the vortex until he drags 
out a miserable existence and a terrible death. Happy 
the youth that have resisted those evils, and become 
useful members of society, a blessing to the country 
and a benefit to the world. 

Mr. Brown kindly invited Mr. C. into his house, and 
himself and family endeavored to make him comforta- 



TEN CENTS A DAY. 271 

ble, but Mr. C. was suffering too much mental agony 
to be happy. The ten cents a day he could not dis- 
miss from his mind, and to undertake to save it now 
was too late. He was present when the story was 
told in the village store as related by Mr. Brown, and 
recollected it well. 

Mr. C. tarried all night with Mr. Brown, and he 
gave him a comfortable lodging, for Mr. C. had often 
been obhged to pass the night in barns and out-houses. 
The following morning Mr. ]5rown gave Mr. C. a de- 
cent suit of clothes and replenished his purse, and 
when he left Mr. Brown he could not refrain from 
weeping. But Mr. C.'s time here on earth was short, 
for he died the following winter a pauper. 

The history of Mr. C. taught Mr. Brown's children 
a salutary lesson, to form habits of sobriety in youthful 
days, and save their ten cents a day. Mr. Brown, 
too, had early taught his children by his success in 
life, that industry and economy is the way to wealth, 
and he often related the story of ten cents a day saved 
to them, which if he had not heard when he was young 
he probably now would have been in limited circum- 
stances, if not poor. How many of the rising genera- 
tion are there at the present day that uselessly spend 
their ten cents a day, thought Mr. Brown one evening, 
as he was sitting in his room with his family around 
him, and how many, thought he, had been wrecked 
in the slippery paths of life, from the age of fifteen to 
twenty-five, and he exhorted his children to remember 
the story of ten cents a day, and to abstain from intem- 
perance, impurity of language, and falsehood. In so 
doing they would save their reputation, preserve their 



272 TEN CENTS A DAY. 

credit, and by usefulness prevent the teai- of anguish 
from flowing down the cheek of a loving father and 
mother, and the richest of heaven's gifts would descend 
and bless them. 

Mr. Brown's advice to his children did not pass by 
unheeded, for he lived to see them all married and set- 
tled around him on farms which he gave them, pros- 
perous and happy, occupying high positions in society. 
All of this, reader, was caused by hearing the story of 
Ten Cents a Day. 



A TALE OF THE GREAT REBELLION. 



It was the month of March, which in our latitude is 
one of the most disagreeable months in the year. A 
mixture of rain, snow and hail, had fallen during the 
day, and the evening in Farmer Brewer's house was 
as dreary as the weather was without, for he was in 
rather an unpleasant mood. He had purchased his 
farm before the outbreak of the great rebellion, for a 
moderate price, as he thought, and had made great 
exertions to liquidate the debt, but the expense of liv- 
ing and the increase of taxes during the four long years 
of the war was bearing so heavily upon him, that now 
he could hardly collect money enough to pay his inter- 
est, which would soon be due. His two sons, Elihu 
and Leonard, had enlisted in the war, and he was left 
alone to work his farm and get along the best he could. 
Where Farmer Brewer lived, laborers were very scarce 
and commanded- exorbitant prices, which he was una- 
ble to pay. It was true that the products of his farm 
sold for large prices, but the scarcity of labor obliged 
him to cultivate but little, and oftentimes he had to 
trudge along alone. 

It was the early part of JMarch, and the snow yet 
covered the earth, for the winter had been one of unin- 
terrupted sleighing, and the rays of the sun had not 



274 A TALE OK THE REBELLION. 

yet sufficient heat to melt the large bodies of snow 
which had fallen during the winter. Farmer Brewer 
sat with his family around his cooking stove. His 
farm having a limited supply of wood, he could not 
afford to purchase coal, which then sold at twelve dol- 
lars per ton, and one fire was all that he was able to 
support. This had to suffice for the warmth and com- 
fort of his family, and to accommodate his neighbors 
who came to see him during the long winter evenings. 
His neighbors, who were in affluent circumstances, had 
an extra fire when they received company, and when 
Farmer Brewer paid them a visit, and saw the pains 
and expense they had taken to accommodate himself 
and family, he would go home unhappy. 

He was sitting around his cooking stove with his 
family, consisting of his wife and two interesting 
daughters, with his face buried in his hands, absorbed 
in deep thought. The March wind whistled around 
his dwelling, and the hail and storm were pelting 
against the windows. Nothing was heard within but 
the hissing of the old tea-kettle on the cooking stove, 
and the chirp of the cricket in the jambs of the old fire- 
place. Farmer Brewer was now thinking of his two 
sons, who were in General Grant's army and had fol- 
lowed him from the Rapidan to Richmond, through all 
the bloody battles, without being even wounded. They 
had seen the brave Generals Sedgwick and Wadsworth 
fall, and had seen their comrades shot down side by 
side in the battles of the Wilderness, and had followed 
the retreating rebels to the strongholds of Richmond. 

Farmer Brewer was thinking that evening whether 
his sons would live to see the end of the war and return 



A TALE OF THE REBELLION. 275 

in safety. This had been a great source of trouble to 
him, for he now needed the assistance of his sons. He 
was far advanced in life, and was getting infirm, and 
would soon be unable to endure the labors of farming. 

The first of May was approaching, and Farmer Brew- 
er had his interest to pay, and he was fearful that he 
would not have wherewith to meet it. The little he 
had raised off of his farm he was obliged to consume 
in his family and to pay his taxes with. If he had 
employed a laborer through the past summer, he might 
have raised extra produce enough to pay for the labor 
and have something to sell to pay his interest, but the 
draft had taken the working class and even his two 
sons for the war, so he was obliged to work his form 
alone. P'armer Brewer now was in trouble, yet he 
was thankful his two sons had not fallen in the great 
struggle, and if he had means sufficient to meet his 
first of May engagements he would be happy. Under 
circumstances like these Farmer Brewer was discour- 
aged, and truth compels me to say that he was unpleas- 
ant to his family. Before the war he was an affection- 
ate husband, a kind father, indulgent to his children ; 
now he was morose and cross, with little conversation 
evenings as he sat wMth his fomily around the old cook- 
ing stove. 

Another month had passed away and April had come. 
A series of battles was going on between Generals 
Grant and Lee, and Farmer Brewer read the news 
with more than ordinary interest, of the advantages 
gained by our armies over Lee. The strongholds 
which the rebel General had held with such determin- 
ed resistance, were now forced to succumb to our arms, 



27G A TALE OF THE REBELLION. 

and eventually the rebel army of Northern Virginia 
was forced to leave their capital and beat a precipitate 
retreat in the night, and v^as hotly pursued the next 
day by Grant. This was the second of April. Lee 
was trying to force a junction with Johnston, which 
then would enable him to keep the enemy at bay, and 
probably make his escape with his grand army across 
the Rio Grande, and take up his abode in Texas. If 
unsuccessful, then he could retreat into Mexico, and 
there prolong the war for some time. But headed oft' 
by Sherman, he was compelled to surrender on the 
ninth of April. 

When Farmer Brewer I'ead of the surrender of Lee 
and tiie grand ai'my of Northern Virginia, and saw the 
rejoicings throughout the North, the flags and banners 
waving to the breeze, the orators and statesmen pro- 
claiming the end of the war, he could hardly realize it. 
General Lee, whose fame had already reached the 
whole civilized world, was now Grant's prisoner, and 
when he received a letter from his sons that they had 
escaped unhurt. Farmer Brewer's feelings could better 
be imagined than described. If, thought he to him- 
self, I could pay my interest the first of May, I would 
be happy, for the war is probably ended, and Elihu 
and Leonard are safe. They will soon be mustered 
out of service and return home again, and then they 
will assist me in working the farm, and thus will ena- 
ble me to get along better. With the help of my two 
sons I may yet be able to keep my farm and cancel the 
mortgage. If I could find some way to pay my inter- 
est the first of May, thought Farmer Brewer to him- 
self, it would be all that I would ask. 



A TALE OF THE REBELLION. 277 

Little did Fcimier Brewer think that his sons Elihu 
and Leonard thought of his situation. They knew 
that their father had interest to pay, and they were 
fearful that he had not money sufficient. A few days 
before the first of May Farmer Brewer was in trouble, 
being all alone in his barn where no eye could see him 
but the inscrutible eye of Him who sees every one. He 
walked the floor with a hurried step, thinking what 
excuse he could render to his creditors. He thought 
when his two sons would return home from the war 
and help him on his farm, he could by another year be 
able to meet the two years interest. But, thought he, 
would this satisfy Mr. S. ! Such thoughts occupied 
his mind, when he was suddenly interrupted by one of 
his daughters entering the barn, saying that mother 
had just received a letter from Elihu, and wishing him 
to come to the house and read it. Farmer Brewer 
obeyed the summons immediately. Receiving the let- 
ter from his wife, he read the following : 

"Dear Father: — Knowing that you had some 
interest to pay the first of May, and thinking that you 

would want a httle money then, we send you 

dollars which we have saved out of our earnings. This 
we present you that you may appropriate to your own 
use. All well. P. S. — Remember us to mother and 
sisters. Your sons, Elihu and Leonard." 

Nothing could have been more opportune to Farmer 
Brewer, for the first of May was close to hand. Now 
the problem was solved, and when the first of May 
morning arrived, Farmer Brewer was ready. 



27S A TALE OF THE REBELLION. 

Farmer Brewer had contracted a few debts with the 
merchants and mechanics, which now he was ready to 
discharge, and having performed this duty it inspired 
him with the hope to commence the year anew. He 
had just received the news that Johnston had surren- 
dered with his entire army on the same terms as Gen- 
eral Lee, and he rejoiced in the anticipation that the 
war was at an end, and soon his two sons would get 
an honorable discharge and return home, and that 
peace would once more smile upon our beloved coun- 
try, which for four long years had been deluged with 
blood, and bedewed with the tears of widows and 
orphans. 

Farmer Brewer, as I iiave said, had for the past year 
been unpleasant in his family, but it was his pecuniary 
embarrassments that made him so. He was prosper- 
ous in early life, but meeting with reverses, and the 
draft taking his two sons from him, made him feel 
unhappy. But now a bright day was dawning. They 
would soon return, and he felt confident that he would 
see better days. 

A beautiful May evening Farmer Brewer was sit- 
ting again with his flimily in the same kitclien around 
the old cooking stove, but he did not exhibit the same 
disposition. His former cheerfulness had returned, and 
there with his ftimily he was enjoying a happy liour. 
The spring was further advanced than usual at that 
season of the year. Alrt^ady the fruit trees were in 
blossom, and the valley and fields were clothed in a 
verdure of green. Nature appeared to Farmer Brewer 
more than ordinarily beautiful, at a season when she 
decks herself in her most brilliant garments. The air 



A TALE OF THE KEBELLION. 279 

without was balmy, and the old cooking stove did not 
need to be replenished witli fuel. Farmer Brewer is 
again the same affectionate husband, a kind and indul- 
gent father, and we trust he will ever remain so. His 
two sons were once more in the bosom of his family. 
God grant that he be spared many years, and when 
his days on earth are numbered may he die in the hope 
of a blessed immortality. 



EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS 
COUNTY. 

Dutchess county was formed Nov. 1st, 168:3. It 
was provisionally annexed to Ulster, and was first rep- 
resented separately in the General Assembly in 1713. 
Livingston Manor was taken off and annexed to Al- 
bany county in 1717, and Putnam was taken off in 
1S12. It is on the east bank of the Hudson, about 
midway between New York and Albany, and ranks 
among the first in tlie state, containing a large class of 
wealthy farmers located on substantial farms, well 
cultivated and improved. This county has been the 
habitation of the white man for nearly two centuries. 
It was settled mostly by the Dutch and French Hugue- 
nots, an industrious people, who cleared tlie forests, 
reclaimed the swamps, and erected stately farm houses. 
The county was originally purchased of the aborigines 
by patentees. Francis Rombout and others were the 
first purchasers. Their patent bears date October 17, 
1686. The number of acres it contained is not defi- 



284 EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

nitely known, but it included the original town of 
Fishkill, now divided into Fishkill, East Fishkill, and 
a part of LaGrange. Tlie second purchase was the 
Great or Lower Nine Partners, by Caleb Heathcote 
and others. The patent bears date May 27, 1697. 
The Nine Partners purchased nine water lots extend- 
ing from the Hudson River east to the Connecticut 
line, including the county north of Beekman's patent. 
The third purchaser was Henry Beekman, June 5th, 
1703. That purchase included the central part of the 
county. The fourth purchase was Little or Upper 
Nine Partners, by Sampson, Boughton, and others, 
April 10, 170(5. This purchase included the towns of 
Milan, Pine Plains, and North East. 

The Amenia Times recently published an interest- 
ing account of tlie "Great Nine Partners," most of the 
facts being obtained from Mr. Newton Reed, of South 
Amenia, and from which we make the following ex- 
tracts : 

"There are two tracts of land in this county named 
the 'Nine Partners' — tlie lower or 'Great Nine Part- 
ners,' and the upper or 'Little Nine Partners.' The 
name was formerly used and applied to several differ- 
ent localities wide apart, even after the incorporation 
of the several towns included in these tracts. Our 
Dutch ancestors, who settled in Fishkill in the year 
1690, had evidently an eye upon the finely located 
lands in this section, for in the year 1697 they obtained 
a Royal Patent from the crown of England, and the 
corporate name of the ^Nine Partners.' This tract of 
land was about twelve by sixteen miles in extent, and 
embraced about thirty thousand acres. The old Red 



EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 285 

Meeting House was located on this tract, as was also 
the Friends' school, in Washington, known as the 
^Nine Partners' Boarding School,' 

"The lower or Great Nine Partners covered the ter- 
ritory nearly included in the towns of Clinton, Pleas- 
ant Valley, Washington, Stanford, und all the old 
town of Amenia, except what is termed the Oblong. 
Nine residents of the county obtained this patent, 
to-wit: Caleb Heathcote, a descendant of a noble 
English family; James Emmot, the ancestor of our 
distinguished countryman, now of New York city, and 
Judge of the Supreme Court; William Creed, David 
Johnstone, Jarvis Mitchell, Henry Ten Eyck, Henry 
Filkin, after whom the old town of Filkintown was 
named, (now in the neighborhood of Mabbetsville ;) 
John Aarston, and Augustus Graham, the latter of 
Scotch descent — and this tract was divided into thirty- 
six principal lots of nearly an equal number of acres. 
There were four tiers running north and south, and 
each one of the aforesaid proprietors had a lot in each 
tier — the eastern was embraced in tlie town of Amenia, 
and the town lot, number twenty-eight, was owned 
by Augustus Graham. The lots next in order north 
belonged to John Aarston, Henry Filkin, Caleb Heath- 
cote, James Emmot, William Creed, David Johnstone, 
Jarvis Mitchell, and Henry Ten Eyck. Besides these 
thirty-six large lots there were nine long narrow lots, 
one to each partner, running from near the southwest 
corner acKOSs the town of Hyde Park to the Hudson 
river, and these were called water lots. The lot lines, 
as shown on the larger maps of Dutchess county, are 
not in every instance correct. 



286 EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

"The upper or 'Little Nine Partners' covered the 
territory now nearly included in the present towns of 
Milan, Pine Plains, and that part of North East (except 
the Oblouir) which was formerly a part of Amenia. 

"The town of Amenia, until the year 1823, em- 
braced that part of North East which lies south of a 
line running through the north part of tlie village of 
Millertou. 

"This tract or patent for lands was granted by the 
Crown in the year 1706 to nine men also, to-wit: 
Sampson Boughton, George Clark, Rip Van Dam, — 
whose lather was an alderman of New York city in 
1695 — James Graham, R. Lurting, F. Franconier, 
Thomas Wenham, Richard Mompesson, and Richard 
Sackett, who was the first white settler in Amenia, 
and who subsequently purchased large quantities of 
land from the Indians located in and about Sharon. 
This tract of land was divided into sixty-three lots of 
different areas and various localities. The Nine Part- 
ners' grants were of much earlier date than the ceding 
of the Oblong to this state — and east of which was 
then the Connecticut line — the Oblong west line runs 
near the residence of Mr. Allen Wiley, about half a 
mile east of Amenia station. 

"It is related of the proprietor of a celebrated hos- 
terlie many years ago in the city of New York, that 
when he saw the name of a guest from Dutchess coun- 
ty on his register, he would ask the (juestion, 'Were 
you born in Dutchess?' If the reply was in the affir- 
mative, he would remark, 'I never lost a cent by a 
Dutchess county man — they are all gentlemen !' " 

Tlie first civilized man that visited Dutchess county 



EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 2S7 

was Heiidrick. Hudson, an Englishman by birtli. In 
1607 a London company fitted out a ship under his 
command for the purpose of discovering a northwes- 
tern passage to the East Indies. This voyage and 
another the following year for the same purpose both 
proving unsuccessful, the company suspended their 
patronage. Hudson then went to Holland and entered 
the service of the celebrated Dutch East India Com- 
pany. This company fitted out a small ship named 
the Half Moon, under the command of Hudson, 
with a crew of twenty men, Dutch and English. 
Hudson left Amsterdam on the 4th, the Texel on the 
6th of April, and arrived on the American coast on the 
1 8th of July, 1609, near Portland, Me. Turning his 
course southward, Hudson came to Cape Cod, where 
he landed about the 3d of August. After this he sailed 
southward and westward for twenty-one days, until he 
came to the entrance of Chesapeake Bay, about the 
24th of August. From this point he returned north- 
ward along the coast, and on the 28th discovered 
Delaware Bay. During the six following days he pur- 
sued his northerly course, and on the 3d of September, 
1609, he anchored within Sandy Hook. Here he 
remained several days for the purpose of exploring the 
country. A boat was sent ashore every day and the na- 
tives manifested a friendly disposition toward them, and 
showed a strong desire to barter the products of their 
country for articles the ship contained, such as knives, 
beads and cloths. On the 6th of September he sent 
a boat manned with five hands to explore what ap- 
peared to be the mouth of a river at a distance of 
about five leagues from the ship. Here a good depth 



'2SS EARLY HISTORY OF DLTCIIESS COUNTY. 

of water was found. In exploring the bay and adja- 
cent waters the boat's crew spent the whole day. On 
their way returning to the ship towards night they 
were attacked by the natives in two canoes, one car- 
rying fourteen and the other twelve men. A skirmish 
ensued in which one of Hudson's men, named John 
Colman, was killed by an arrow which struck him in 
the throat, and two were w^ounded. The next day 
the remains of Colman were interred on a point of 
land not far from the ship, which from that circum- 
stance received the name of Colman's Point, and which 
was probably the same that is now called Sandy Hook. 
On the 11th of September Hudson sailed through the 
Narrows, and on the 12th he first entered the river 
which bears his name. From the 12th to the 22d of 
September Hudson was employed in ascending the 
river. The natives were not friendly until he had 
passed the Highlands, and when he had ascended the 
river as far as Dutchess county, Hudson says tiiey 
found a very loving people and ver}^ old men, and they 
wei'e well used. Hudson went ashore a few miles 
north of Poughkeepsie and a sachem took him to his 
wigwam and made him good cheer. At that place 
the savages flocked on board the ship in large num- 
bers, bringiiig with them corn, tobacco, pumpkins 
and grapes. 

Tobacco, which is now consumed in such quanti- 
ties under various forms, was first introduced into 
England from Spanish America, by Sir Francis Drake 
and Sir Walter Raleigh, in the year 1586, and met 
with an early and violent opposition. The clergy 
and physicians were bitterly opposed to its use, and 



EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 289 

King James the First wrote a book against it, entitled 
the "Counter Blast to Tobacco," It appears that it 
was universally used by the aborigines of America. 
Hudson found it here with the natives of Dutchess 
county. But Hudson introduced a deadly poison' 
among the natives more destructive than the fabled 
Upas. He was the first white man that gave the In- 
dians of Dutchess county ardent spirits, and it was the 
first in this part of the American continent. Several 
of tlie natives he designed to make drunk, and as the 
nature of the savage was naturally inclined to intem- 
perance, Hudson found little difficulty in making sev- 
eral of their principal men drunk. Some soon became 
perfectly helpless. These the sober Indians thought 
would die, for they knew nothing of the nature of ar- 
dent spirits, but on becoming sober they expressed 
themselves in better health than before, and were 
eager again to partake of strong water. Hudson sailed 
up the river a little above where the city of Hudson 
now stands, and beyond that point he himself never 
ascended. He sent a boat with five hands, including 
the mate, who had the command of the expedition. 
The boat proceeded beyond where the ship lay at 
anchor eight or nine leagues, but finding the river 
more shallow, and the depth in some places not more 
than seven feet, it was judged unadvisable to attempt 
any further progress. It is supposed that the boat 
went as far as where the city of Albany now stands. 
Hudson traded with the natives until he began to de- 
scend the river, which was the 23d of September, some 
of them fetching beaver and other skins, which they 
exchanged for hatchets, knives, beads, and other tri- 



290 EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

fles. The river abounded with fish, among which 
were great quantities of sahnon, now unknown in its 
waters. When these fish made their last visit to the 
waters of the Hudson is not known; it must have 
been shortly after its discovery. Hudson makes no 
mention of animals in liis voyage. That the buffalo 
existed in Dutchess county there is not the least shad- 
ow of doubt. 

Hudson, in trading with the natives, penetrated but 
a few miles into the country, and probably saw no 
buflfaloes. As the animals generally herd in large num- 
bers, he might not come in contact with any, as he 
was but ten days exploring the river. Animals have 
existed here in our river counties which became ex- 
tinct before they were settled by civiHzed man. Ogil- 
vie, in his description of Autumn, speaking of these 
parts, makes mention of Hons which abounded in the 
mountains. He says, on the borders of Canada there 
is sometimes seen a kind of beast which hath some 
resemblance to a horse, having cloven feet, shaggy 
mane, one horn, just on the forehead, a tail like that 
of a wild hog, and a deer's neck. He furthermore 
gives a picture of this strange beast, wliich resembles 
exceedingly a unicorn. The mastodon, an animal that 
has never been seen alive by civilized man, once prob- 
ably existed in Dutchess county. Several skeletons 
have been found in Orange county, mostly in the town 
of Montgomery and vicinity. One of these was exhib- 
ited many years in Peale's Museum, Philadelphia. One 
found in 1844, by Nathaniel Brewster, twenty feet 
below the surface, was thirty feet long. The whole 
number of bones was two hundred and twenty, and 



EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 291 

the aggregate weight nearly 1,995 pounds. The mas- 
todon may not have been extinct when this continent 
was discovered by Columbus, and even as late as when 
Henry Hudson sailed up the river that bears his name, 
there may have been some living mastodon found in 
our river counties. The progress of civihzation was 
extremely slow\ From the time when Columbus dis- 
covered America to the first permanent settlement of 
the United States, was a period of one hundred and 
fifteen years, and from the time that Dutchess county 
was discovered to its first permanent settlement was 
three-quarters of a century. The mastodon probably 
became extinct in this country just before it was occu- 
pied by the Europeans, for according to the opinion 
of learned men those skeletons that were found in 
Orange county could not have lain there more than 
five centuries. The weight of those animals when 
alive must have been enormous, when we consider 
that the bones weighed nearly two tons. 

The mastodon has existed in Orange county, and 
although there have been no skeletons found in this 
county, several large ones have been found across the 
river. Dutchess county was not so favorable a loca- 
tion for the mastodon as Orange county. Dutchess 
county contains more low, wet and swampy ground, 
and the mastodon being a large animal, could not ven- 
ture on these grounds on account of his weight, and 
consequently he sought a more favorable location. 
The mastodon was probably a carniverous animal, and 
lived on other animals, which might be one cause of 
his becoming extinct. If he Hvcd on herbage, as some 
historians say, he could not have subsisted here all 



292 EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

through our long winters, as he could not obtain suffi- 
cient food when the ground was covered with snow, 
and would have died of starvation. The different 
tribes of Indians probably united together and des- 
troyed him in order to save the game for their own 
wants. 

As I have already remarked, Hudson began to ascend 
the river the 23d of September from where he lay at 
anchor to where the city of Hudson is now located. 
On his way down his men went frequently ashore, and 
had several friendly interviews with the natives, who 
expressed a desire that they would reside amongst 
them, and a sachem of Dutchess county made Hudson 
and his crew an offer of lands for that purpose, which 
was declined. When the ship came below the High- 
lands the savages appeared to be of a different character, 
and were extremely troublesome, especially those who 
inhabited the western side of the river. They tried to 
rob the ship, and frequently shot at the crew with 
bows and arrows. Hudson's men discharged several 
muskets at them and killed ten or twelve of them. In 
these conflicts, which were frequently renewed during 
the first and second days of October, none of the ship's 
crew appear to have been injured. On the fourth day 
of October, just one month from the day on which he 
landed within Sandy Hook, Hudson came out of the 
river, and without anchoring in the bay immediately 
stood out to sea. He headed directly for Europe, and 
on the 9th day of November following he arrived in 
England. Hudson never revisited Dutchess county, 
but he made another voyage to this country in 1610, 
and discovered the great northern bay which bears his 



EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 293 

name. There he was compelled to pass a distressing 
and dangerous winter. In the spring he found a spirit 
of dissatisfaction and mutiny growing among his men, 
and at length manifesting itself in open violence. A 
majority of his crew arose, took command of the ship, 
put Hndson and seven others in a boat, turned them 
adrift on the ocean, and abandoned them to their fate. 
They were never heard of more. 

After Hudson discovered Dutchess county, there 
were no permanent settlers in it for nearly three-quar- 
ters of a century. Most of the river counties were 
settled prior to Dutchess. Ulster county was the first 
between New York and Albany. It commenced upon 
the present site of Rondout in 1614. This early set- 
tlement was broken up by Indian hostilities, and a new 
one was commenced between 1630 and 1640. This 
was again attacked by the Indians, and in 1665 was 
abandoned. Before 1660 settlers had again located at 
Kingston and vicinity, wiiich was again attacked by 
the Indians. A destructive war ensued, in which the 
Ulster county Indians were nearly exterminated. From 
this we date the permanent settlement of Ulster. 

In 1614 the Dutch built a trading house at the 
southern extremity of Manhattan island, (now New 
York island,) called New Amsterdam, and another at 
Albany called Fort Orange, and in the meantime they 
carried on- trade with the Indians in Dutchess county, 
stopping at Fishkill Landing and Poughkeepsie. When 
Westchester, Orange, and Ulster counties were set- 
tling, Dutchess county contained no inhabitants. A 
delegation numbering ten or more persons was sent 
across the river from Ulster to view the country. On 



294 EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

their return they reported the land worthless and not 
fit for the habitation of man. Could we wonder that 
Dutchess county settled so extremely slow, when a 
historian says, that in 1693, Dutchess having very few 
inhabitants, was committed to the care of Ulster. The 
first settlers were obliged to go to Esopus to attend 
court. But eventually some pioneers ventured into 
Dutchess county and began to clear the forests, and as 
they gradually opened the woods, giving the sun's rays 
a chance to warm the earth, the waters in the marshy 
grounds retreated and became absorbed in the atmos- 
phere. Those stagnant pools which were so unhealthy 
to the early settlers dried up, and the ground was con- 
verted into natural meadows. But emigration was so 
slow that it was not till 1720 that the county wore the 
aspect of civilization. Then emigration was rapid. 

Fishkill and Rhinebeck were the first towns settled. 
The Amies, Brinckerhoffs, Alyurks, Hays, Pincels, 
Depuysters, Linderbecks, and Swartouts were among 
the first settlers in Fishkill. The first settler in Rhine- 
beck was H. Beekman, before 1700. Poughkeepsie 
was next. Baltics Van Kleeck built the first house 
within the present hmits of the city, in 1702. Amenia 
was the next town settled. Richard Sackett bought 
large tracts of land of the Indians, and in 1711 settled 
in this town. Beekman was next settled. A colony 
located in 1716 and kept an inn at an early day. The 
remaining towns in the county were settled somewhere 
between 1720 and 1750. The only villages in the 
county before the Revolution were Poughkeepsie and 
Fishkill. Fishkill then was the most wealthy and 
populous. It could boast of an academy while Pough- 



EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 295 

keepsie had none. The celebrated divine, the Rev. 
John H. Livingston, of the Reformed Dutch Church, 
was born at Poughkeepsie in 174G, and v^^hen old 
enough to attend school, there being no academy in 
his native place, he was sent to Fishkill, and put un- 
der the care of the Rev. Chauncey Graham. It would 
appear from this that Poughkeepsie had only a com- 
mon school in the village before the Revolution. There 
was a school house located in Main street east of the 
City Bank, the precise spot not now known, which 
stood there till after the Revolution. That school 
house contained pupils that afterwards became distin- 
guished men in Poughkeepsie, The Hon. Judge Era- 
mot, deceased, received the rudiments of his education 
there. After the Revolution, Poughkeepsie being the 
shire town of Dutchess county, it arose phoenix hke, 
for where the Morgan House is located was nothing 
but an extensive field, containing a race course and a 
few old dilapidated dwellings. Splendid buildings 
were soon erected, and in 179S the Rutzer Hotel was 
built, which was then the finest hotel between New 
York and Albany, as the historian said when finished, 
"it is elegant and spacious," While the first settlers 
of Ulster, Orange, and Westchester counties were con- 
stantly annoyed by the Indians, and their histories are 
recorded with bloody battles, nothing of the kind 
occurred between the first settlers of Dutchess and the 
Indians. The different tribes that occupied the county 
were remarkably peaceful. There is no record that a 
battle was ever fought, or that the people even found 
it necessary to fortify against tlieir attacks. 

The oldest deed on record in the county bears date 



296 EARLY HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

January 2Stli, 1698, in the reign of William the Third, 
for lands stated to have been patented on the 7th of 
May, 1697. It is signed by John Rodsnan and Mary 
his wife, William Kuddleston and Sarah his wife, of 
the city of New York, to Thomas Rathburn. The 
next oldest deed is dated July 20th, 1702, given by 
Myndart Hermanse and Robert Sanders to Myndart 
Van Kleeck, for property in Pockepsung. As I have 
remarked, the first settlers were obliged to go to Eso- 
pns to attend court, then called Wiltwyck, and it 
wasn't till 1717 that the colonial legislature authorized 
the building of a Court House and Jail at Poughkeep- 
sie. It was not till 1721 that the Court of Common 
Pleas was established. The following is a copy of the 
first Court of General Sessions held in Dutchess county: 
"At a Court of Greneral Sessions of the Peace held 
at Poughkeepsie, the third Tuesday in October, being 
the Seventeenth day of the same month, in the eighth 
year of the Reign of our Sovereign Lord George, by 
the Grace of God of Great Britain, France and Ireland, 
King, Defender of the Faith, &c. Ano Domino 1721 : 
Present Leonard Lewis, Jacob Kipp, Parent Van 
Kleeck, Court opened. The Commission being read, 
the Grand Jury being called and sworn, Court ad- 
journed till four o'clock in the afternoon. The Grand 
Jury the next morning brought in a presentment 
against the defendent John DeGrass for suspision of 
felonv." 



THE FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS 



COUNTY. 

The first preaching in Dutchess county was proba- 
bly by the Reformed Dutch Missionaries, unless it was, 
as some historians assert, by Missionaries of the Mora- 
vian Church to the Indians in Pine Plains, or Chico- 
mico, as it was then called. The Reformed Dutch 
Church in the county was organized at Poughkeepsie 
in the year 1716, by the Rev. Peter Vas, of Kingston, 
and the same year he organized the Reformed Dutch 
Church of Fish kill. Probably they were the first 
churches organized in Dutchess county. The church 
at Poughkeepsie was erected several years before the 
church at Fishkill, for according to the records of the 
county the deed was given by Captain Jacobus Van- 
derbogart, Mr. Peter Velie, and Mr. Johannas Van 
Kleeck, conveying to them a lot of land in Pough- 
keepsie, on which to erect a Dutch Meeting House, in 
connection with the church in the Netherlands. The 
deed bears date December 26, 1718, and was acknowl- 
edged before Leonard Lewis, and probably the church 
at Pockepsing, as it was then called, was soon after 
built. It stood in the center of what is now known 



298 FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

as Market street. The burying ground extended along 
Main street eastward for several rods and west of the 
church to the lot adjoining, covered by the Court 
House. Rev. A. M. Mann, in an historical sermon of 
said church, in 1858, says that the Reformed Dutch 
Church of Poughkeepsie was organized, as nearly as 
can be ascertained, about the year 1700, but by what 
classis or minister is not definitely known. He says 
that around the first thirty years of its existence there 
has gathered a profound and impenetrable darkness. 
Again, he says : ''What was its style of architecture, 
or the material of which it was built, we have no 
means of ascertaining." We disagree with the rever- 
end historian. It is a fixed fact that the Dutch Church 
of Poughkeepsie and Fishkill was organized in 1716, 
and that around the first thirty years of its existence 
there is no profound and impenetrable darkness. As 
I have said, the deed was recorded in the county rec- 
ords, December 26, 1718, and about two years after 
the church at Poughkeepsie was organized, and soon 
after the church edifice was erected. The material of 
which the church was built was stone, with a hipped 
roof, and a moderate tower in front. The tower eX" 
tended above the peak of the roof a short distance, and 
there the bell was suspended, and over the same was a 
small tapering spire, and surmounting that was the 
rooster. There was but one entrance, and that was in 
the tower, wdiich fronted Main street. That church 
existed till the close of the Revolution, when it was 
demolished and a new one erected some seventy feet 
from Main street, and on a lot known as the old bury- 
ing ground, a short distance northeast of the Pough- 



FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS COUNTY. 299 

keepsie Hotel, where a portion of the foundation may 
still be traced. 

The Reformed Dutch Church of Fish kill was not 
erected till the year 1731. A petition that year, of 
the elders and deacons of the Reformed Dutch Protes- 
tant Church of Fish Creek, Dutchess County, in the 
Province of New York, in behalf of themselves and 
the rest of the members of said church, addressed to 
his excellency, John Montgomerie, Esq., recorded in 
the Historical Documents, Vol. 3, humbly sheweth : 
That the members of the said congregation being in 
daily expectation of a minister from Holland, to preach 
the Grospel amongst them, according to the canons, 
rule and discipline of the Reformed Protestant Churches 
of the United Netherlands, and therefore have agreed 
amongst themselves to erect and build a convenient 
church to the public worship of God, nigh the said 
Fish Creek, in the county aforesaid; but finding that 
the said building would be very chargable, and there- 
fore, as in like cases has been practiced and is usual in 
His Providence, they would desire the aid, help, and 
assistance of all charitable and well-disposed christians 
within this Province for the completion of the said 
building. They therefore most humbly pray for your 
Excellency's license to be granted, to collect, gather 
and receive the benevolence and free gifts of all such 
-inhabitants of this Province as shall be willing to con- 
tribute, &c. 

The first church was built where the present one is 
now located. The dimensions every way were the 
same, and the material used was stone. It had a bar- 
rack roof with a small cupola in the center, which 



300 FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

supported a bell, and a rooster surmounted the same. 
The upper story had port holes in the walls, to enable 
the inhabitants to defend themselves as in a fort, in 
case of an attack by the Indians, to which they were 
subject when the country was first settled. The only 
entrance was on Main street, and in front of the church 
was a large oak tree that was necessarily taken down 
when the present edifice was erected. The celebrated 
spy, Enoch Crosby, who figured in Cooper's writings 
as Harry Burch, made his escape when confined in the 
same church, by leaping from the upper window to a 
limb of the same tree. Four years after the close of 
the Revolution the old church was demolished and the 
present edifice erected, though it was not, for the want 
of funds, entirely completed until the year 1800. 

After the Reformed Dutch Churches of Poughkeep- 
sie and Fishkill were organized, there was no settled 
minister over either of these churches for several years, 
but they enjoyed the occasional services of the Rev. 
Peter Vas, of Kingston, Rev. Gualterus Dubois, of New 
York, Rev. Vincentius Antonides, of Kings County, 
Long Island, and the Rev. Mr. Van Deusen, of Albany. 
These men in their visitations were in the habit, it 
seems, of administering the ordinance of baptism and 
the Lord's Supper. Probably these men were the first 
that preached in Dutchess county, but the editor of the 
Poughkeepsie Eagle, in his paper of May 15, 1858, says: 
"Probably the first preaching the people of Pough- 
keepsie, Fishkill, and Rhinebeck ever heard, unless 
it was from the Moravian Missionaries to the Indians, 
in Pine Plains, or Chicomico, as it was then called, 
was by Dominie Backerus, of New York, about 1645, 



FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS COUNTY. 301 

when he began to visit the settlements." Dominie 
Backerus left New York for Holland in 1648, and 
never returned, and at that time there were no perma- 
nent settlers in Dutchess county. He could not have 
preached in Dutchess county then, as there were no 
inhabitants to preach to, and as late as 1714 Dutchess 
county contained only 445 inhabitants. There is no 
authentic authority that Dominie Backerus was ever 
In Dutchess county. 

The first minister regularly called and settled over 
the churches of Poughkeepsie and Fishkill, was the 
Rev. Cornelius Van Schie, who was sent by the classis 
of Amsterdam, in Holland, in the year 1731, just fif- 
teen years after the churches were first organized. The 
call was signed by the Rev. Vincentius Antonides, of 
Long Island, and by the following persons, who con- 
stituted the first consistories of the above churches : 
Of the church of Poughkeepsie, the elders were Peter 
Palmatier, Johannis Van Kleeck ; deacons, Laurens 
Van Kleeck and Myndert Vanderbogart. Of the 
church of Fishkill, the elders were Peter DuBuys, 
Abram DuBuys ; deacons, Abram BrinckerhofF and 
Hendrick Phillips. 

These churches continued to be united for a number 
of years, probably to the close of the Revolution. In 
1772 it still subsisted. In the minutes of the Consist- 
ory, May, 1789, we find in the record, that the mem- 
bers of the corporation of the First Reformed Protes- 
tant Dutch Church of Fishkill Town, met for the first 
time after their incorporation, and September, 1789, 
the Consistory appointed a committee of two to visit 
Poughkeepsie and inquire into the state of the glebe 



302 FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

belonging to the churches of Poughkeepsie and Fish- 
kill. From these records it would seem the union had 
been but recently dissolved. Accompanying the above 
call, which these churches sent to the classis at Am- 
sterdam, was a sum of money sufficient to defray the 
expenses of the minister and his family to this country. 
The amount of which, the record states, was 502 
guilders. On the 4th of October, 1731, the Rev. Cor- 
nelius Van Schie, the first pastor of the united churches, 
was installed over them by the Rev. Gualterus Dubois, 
of the city of New York. Of Mr. Van Schie we have 
no further knowledge than that he continued to serve 
these churches in the gospel till about the year 1738, 
when he was released from his pastoral charge and 
removed to the city of Albany, where he died in 1 744. 
The second pastor was the Rev. Benjamin Meinema, 
whose call bears date 1745. But the first account of 
him on the consistorial records is in 1749. He re- 
mained pastor of these churches till the year 1758. 
The next in order was the Rev. Jacobus Van Nist. 
His call, from the elders and deacons of the Reformed 
Dutch Churches of Poughkeepsie and Fishkill, desig- 
nates him as a candidate for the ministry. It bears 
date 1758, and was moderated by the Rev. Mr. Van- 
derburg, of Raritan, New Jersey. Mr. Van Nist's 
ministry was short, for he died in early life. He was 
buried in the church yard at Fishkill, near the high- 
way, now known as Main street. The tombstone had 
entirely disappeared. It was accidentally discovered 
when digging a grave where he was interred, and the 
following inscription in Dutch was on the stone, orig- 
inally placed there; "Jacobus Van Niest, Preacher of 



FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS COUNTY. 303 

the Holy Gospel at Pouglikeepsie and Vis Kill, Died 
10th of April, 1761, in his 27th year." The stone is 
now placed against the rear of the church. 

From what we can learn of the history of the above 
churches, there was but one pastor who had the sole 
charge of them, even so late as the year 1761. The 
glebe or parsonage was located at Poughkeepsie, and 
the minister resided there, and probably divided his 
time equally between Poughkeepsie and Fishkill. He 
might have had some other missionary station in the 
county. What salary he received we have no means 
of ascertaining. The churches being some sixteen 
miles apart, the country new, and the roads being 
sometimes almost impassable, rendered it difficult for 
the pastor to be punctual to his appointments. The 
Dutch Church at that period was the most numerous 
of any sect in the State of New York. Slie was the 
first to follow the footsteps of Hudson, and her minis- 
ters were the first to proclaim the glad tidings of sal- 
vation to the dark benighted savages of the new world. 
At that period of her history the inhabitants would 
come from Rhinebeck, Beekman, and LaGrange, to 
Poughkeepsie and Fishkill, to have their faithful pas- 
tors break to them the bread of life. How different it 
is now. At the present time churches in the town of 
Fishkill are within rifle shot of a population of ten 
thousand inhabitants. 

The decease of Mr. Van Nist occurred about the 
mid period of the difficulties occasioned by the unhap- 
py strife between the Coetus and Conferentia parties. 
It was at that time that these associated churches be- 
came so agitated and distracted on the subject, that 



304 FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

the congregations were divided. In 1763 the Confer- 
entia party of Poughkeepsie, Fishkill, Hopewell, and 
Rhinebeck, united in sending a call to the classis of 
Amsterdam, to be disposed of according to their wis- 
dom. This call was placed by classis in the hands 
of the Rev. Isaac Rysdyck, who having signified his 
acceptance of the same, was regularly installed as the 
pastor of these churches. 

On the 11th of December, 1769, the Coetus party 
presented a call to Henricus Schoonmaker, a candidate 
for the ministry, which call was accepted. So vehe- 
ment was the opposition of the Conferentia party to 
Mr. Schoonmaker and the Coetus party, that at the 
time of his installation at Poughkeepsie, they forcibly 
closed the church door against him, and the services 
took place under an old apple tree not far distant from 
the present site of the First Church. This state of 
things continued until the year 1771, when a recon- 
ciliation took place between the contending parties, 
brought about chiefly through the influence of the late 
Dr. John H. Livingston. In point of numerical 
strength the parties were about equal to each other ; 
in other respects there was a marked difference be- 
tween them. The former excelling in practical preach- 
ing, zeal and industry ; the latter having tiie greatest 
share of learning. The tw^o parties now completely 
organized and prepared for war, took their stand 
against each other with evidences of resolution and 
feeling which forebode a long, obstinate and dreadful 
conflict, and so it proved. The peace of the churches 
was destroyed. Not only neighboring ministers and 
congregations were at variance, but in many places 



FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS COUNTY. 305 

the same congregation was divided, and in those in- 
stances in which the numbers, or the influential char- 
acters on different sides were equal, the consequences 
became very deplorable. The church at Fishkill w^as 
locked up by one part of the congregation against the 
other. Tumults on the Lord's day at the door of the 
church were frequent. Quarrels respecting the ser- 
vices and the contending claims of different ministers 
of the two bodies often took place. The ministers 
were sometimes assaulted in the pulpit, and public 
worship was either disturbed or terminated by vio- 
lence ; and on one occasion a minister of the Coetus 
party was forcibly taken out of the pulpit by one of 
the members of the opposite party, whose name is fa- 
miliar at tlie present day. 

Peace being again restored, Isaac Rysdyck relin- 
quished his charge of the church in Poughkeepsie, and 
confined himself mainly to the care of the churches of 
New Hackensack, Hopewell, and Fishkill, until his 
death, which took place November 2d, 1790. He died 
on Sabbath morning, very sudden, from paralysis. The 
congregation of New Hackensack, Hopewell, and Fish- 
kill, had assembled that morning for service, when a 
messenger arrived and informed them that Rysdyck 
was dead. So sudden and unexpected was the mes- 
sage to them that many of the congregation wept. 
They had heard their pastor's last sermon ; he had de- 
livered his last message; he had left home and friends 
and came here to spend his life in his Master's service, 
and he died at his post. He was found dead alone in 
his room, his sermon in manuscript lying before him. 
The faithful ambassador of Christ knows no fear like 



306 FIRST CHURCHES IN DUTCHESS COUNTY. 

the soldier. Flushed with the expectation of victory^ 
he girds on his armor and enlists in his Master's ser- 
vice, and is ready and willing to spend his life for his 
guilty fellow men, whenever and wherever the lot may 
be opened to him. So it was with Rysdyck. He had 
spent his life in preaching the Holy Gospel. 

His funeral took place the following Tuesday at. 
New Hackensack. There was no funeral sermon 
preached, as it was not customary in those days. The 
elders and deacons were the pall bearers, and his re- 
mains were placed beneath the floor in front of the 
pulpit, (an ancient Dutch custom,) in the church at 
New Hackensack, which stood from 1766 to 1835. His 
remains lay there undisturbed until the old edifice was 
taken down, in 1834, when they were removed and 
buried in the graveyard. In the yard is the following 
inscription : "The remains of the Rev. Isaac Rysdyck, 
the first Pastor of this church, he in the southeast cor- 
ner of this plot." 

He was settled over the churches of Poughkeepsie, 
Fishkill, New Hackensack, and Hopewell, in the year 
1765, and continued his ministery in the three latter, 
churches until his death. 



POUGHKEEPSIE 



Poughkeepsie is the shire town of the wealthy and 
flourishing county of Dutchess, situated on the banks 
of the noble Hudson, equidistant between New York 
and Albany, containing a population of twenty-two 
thousand inhabitants. The original name of Pough- 
keepsie was Apokeepsing, an Indian word signifying 
"Pleasant Harbor." The first permanent settler in 
Poughkeepsie was Baltus Van Kleeck, who built the 
first house within the present limits of the city in the 
year 1702, on land now owned by Matthew Vassar, 
which was demolished in 1835. It was incorporated 
as a village, March 27th, 1729, and as a city, March 
28th, 1854. Dutchess county was organized by the 
first Legislature in 1683. It derived its name from 
Duchess, the wife of a Duke. The first Court House 
in Poughkeepsie was built in the year 1717. An Act 
was passed that year by the Colonial Assembly to au- 
thorize Dutchess county to build a Court House and 
Prison, the notice of which, addressed to the county 
authorities, bears date, June 11th, 1717. Pursuant 
to the provisions of that act, the freeholders of the 
county were commanded to meet at the house of 
Leonard Lewis, on the 22d of June, 1717, and appoint 
by a plurality of voices two persons, being freeholders, 



308 POUGHKEEPSIE. 

to superintend the construction of the building. Leon- 
ard Lewis, Baltus Van Kleeck, and Johannas Terbots, 
signed an order addressed to Cornelius Van Der Bo- 
gart, constable, commanding him to summon the free- 
holders to attend the meeting. At this meeting Capt. 
Baltus Van Kleeck and Jacobus Van Der Bogart, 
supervisors, were chosen to build the Court House and 
Jail. In the order from the Provincial Secretary it is 
said the meeting shall be held in Pockepsink. The 
certificate of the result is signed by Leonard Lewis, 
Jndge, Capt. Baltus Van Kleeck, and Michael Palma- 
teer. Justices. But notwitlistanding that the colonial 
legislature authorized tlie building of a Court House 
and Jail as early as 1717, a Court of Common Pleas 
was not established until 1721. The following is a 
copy of the order for the establishment of such court, 
issued July 6th, 1721, by his excellency, William Bur- 
nett, Esq., Captain General and Goveraor-in-Chief of 
the Provinces of New York, New Jersey, and Territo- 
ries depending thereon in America, and Vice Admiral 
of the same, etc.: 

"In Council, An Ordinance For establishing a Court 
of Common Pleas and a Court of General Sessions of 
the Peace in Dutchess County, in the Province of New 
York : 

"Whereas in the Establishment of the Courts of 
Common Pleas and the General Sessions of the Peace, 
hitherto in the County of Dutchess, on the East side 
of the Hudson River, over against the County of Ulster, 
there has been no Courts of Common Pleas or General 
Sessions of the Peace Erected and Established to be 



POUGHKEEPSIE. 309 

holden and kept within the said County, but the in- 
habitants of the said County liave sometime formerly 
been subjected to the Jurisdiction of the Justices of 
the aforesaid County of Ulster, For remedy whereof 
for the future I have thought fit by and with the Ad- 
vise and Consent of his Majesties Council for the Prov- 
ince of New York, and by virtue of the power and 
authority unto me given and granted under the Great 
Seal of Great Britain, and do hereby Erect, Establish, 
and Ordain, That from hence forward there shall be 
held and kept at Poughkeepsie, near the center of said 
County, a General Sessions of the Peace on the third 
Tuesday in May, and the third Tuesday in October 
yearly, and every year forever; which General Ses- 
sions of the Peace in every Sessions shall not continue 
for longer than two days, but may finish the business 
of the Sessions possibly in one day, and that from 
hence forward, there shall be held and kept at Pogh- 
kepson, near the center of the said County, a Court of 
Common Pleas to begin the next day after the said 
Courts of General Sessions of the Peace terminates, 
and then only if business requires, hold and continue 
for two days next following and no longer, with the 
like power and jurisdiction as other Courts of Common 
Pleas in other Counties within the Province of New 
York have used and enjoyed, any former Ordinance, 
Practice or Usage to the contrary hereof in any wise 
notwithstanding. 

"Given under my hand and seal at arms in Council, 
at Fort George, in New York, the Sixth day of July, 
in the Seventh year of the Reign of our Sovereign 
Lord George, by the Grace of God, King of Great 



310 rOUGIIKEEPSIE. 

Britain, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, 
&c. V. V. Burnet." 

By order of his Excellency in Council, Robin D. M. 
Conn, the Court House was soon after erected, and 
was destroyed by fire in time of the Revolution, when 
a new one was built which was also burnt down in 
1808, and the present structure was erected in 1809. 
The original cost was $29,000. Putnam County, 
which then belonged to Dutchess, raised $4000. The 
building was repaired and a new Jail built separate 
from the Court House, about 1860. 

At a meeting of the Supervisors, held in January, 
1721, among the items of expense allowed are the fol- 
lowing : To Trynte Van Kleeck, widow, for victual- 
ling the assessors and supervisors, justices and clerks, 
sider, shuger, candles, 13^ 9d. To Col. Leonard 
Lewis, for two gallons of rum for assessors and super- 
visors, 9s. To Jacobus Vander Bogart, Esq., for 
the assessors and for horse fodder, 3s. 

In the list of expenses allowed at a session of super- 
visors and assessors in 1 72G, the following are among 
the items allowed : To Col. Leonard Lewis, for three 
gallons of rum for assessors and supervisors, at two 
meetings, at 5s per gallon, 15s. To Widow Vander 
Bogart, for victualling assessors and supervisors, and 
clerk, and sider furnished, .£1 7s. To Hendrick Bass, 
for destroying a wolf, allowed in the act, 6s. To Harr 
manus Reynders, for tending and waiting on the jus- 
tices and assessors and supervisors, clerk, is allowed 
for a year's service, <£2. To Cornelius Van Der Bo- 
gart, Collected for two people that ran away out of 



POUGHKEEPSIE. 311 

his tax list the last year, which he did not receive, 
their taxes in all three shillings, 10s. 

For nearly a century and a half Poughkeepsie has 
been the shire town of the wealthy county of Dutchess, 
but her early history is written in tears of blood. We 
look back with horror in English history, in the big- 
oted and bloody reign of Queen Mary, when man was 
burnt at the stake for his religious zeal. But in the 
early history of Poughkeepsie we find that scenes took 
place almost as cruel and revolting as in the bloody 
reign of Mary Tudor. 

The burning of a white man and negro for incendi- 
arism about a century ago, took place in Market street, 
and was witnessed by a great concourse, and the hor- 
rors were indescribable. It seemed as if the sufferers 
never would die, but continued their screams of agony 
longer than it was thought possible they could live. 
After the wood was nearly all consumed, and their 
bodies charred and half consumed had fallen among 
the coals and ashes, the negro's jaws continued to open 
and shut, as if yawning, for some minutes, as the peo- 
ple crowded around to witness the end. But there 
was another scene of horror which took place in Pough- 
keepsie in the early part of the Revolution, which ex- 
ceeds, if possible, the burning above alluded to. Two 
boys from Fish kill, only about sixteen years of age, 
were arrested as spies. Being without friends, they 
were undefended, tried and condemned to be hung, 
and actually were hung on what afterwards was called 
Forbus Hill. But the trial and execution of a poor 
man from Beekman, whose name was Brock, which 
took place about the year 1770, is too melancholy to 



312 , POUGHKEEPSIE. 

dwell upon. He was poor and friendless, and was 
arrested for passing a counterfeit hard dollar, which 
was proved to have been given him. On the trial he 
had no defence, being unable to employ an attorney, 
and he was found guilty and sentenced to be hung, 
and have his body delivered to the surgeons for dissec- 
tion, all of which was done at Poughkeepsie. But a 
brighter day has dawned, those laws which then took 
the life of a fellow being for so trivial crimes, have 
long since been obliterated. They have been erased 
from our statute books, for the diffusion of knowledge 
has so enliglitened man that it has enabled him to 
frame laws founded upon equity and justice, and at 
the present day, when a criminal is tried for a crime, 
he has justice done him ; and in all cases, when neces- 
sary, mercy is exercised. 

Poughkeepsie has kept pace with the age, and has 
always had her share of learned men. That venerable 
Court House has its history. It was the nursery of 
the genius and eloquence of Edmonds, Jourdan, Tal- 
madge, Williams, Cleveland, and others who have filled 
distinguished positions in American politics. At the 
bar, one of the most interesting cases which ever oc- 
curred in Poughkeepsie, was tiie Collins will case, 
which had been in litigation for years. The closing 
scene took place in the winter of 18(31, and the sum- 
ming up occupied a week. It called out the talent of 
the prominent members of the bar, and the learned 
counsel on either side displayed the finest specimens of 
forensic eloquence. 

Pouglikeepsie is truly a city of churches. There 
are twenty-two churches. The first church in the 



POUGHKEEPSIE. 313 

county, Dutch Reformed, organized in 1717, was 
erected there. It also abounds in schools, many of 
which are of the highest order of excellence. The 
Collegiate School (of late years turned into a hotel for 
summer boarders) was located on the summit of a 
hill about a mile from the Hudson, and nearly half a 
mile from the business part of the city. This struc- 
ure is modelled after the ancient Parthenon at Athens. 
It commands an extensive view of the surrounding 
country. From the colonnade, which entirely surrounds 
it, the eye of the spectator can encompass a circuit of 
fifty miles. In company with a friend on one pleas- 
ant day in winter we ascended College Hill, and the 
scene was Imposing. On the west and north, where 
in the summer the Hudson rolls on with pride and 
beauty, the river was covered with a bridge of ice, and 
the rays of the sun glistened over the snow clad hills, 
sparkling like diamonds. Far ahead in the distance 
could be seen the azure summits of the Catskills reared 
to the clouds, and stretching beyond the vision's utmost 
limit. The far famed Mountain House is distinctly 
seen, at an elevation of nearly three thousand feet 
above the river. At our feet, like a beautiful pano- 
rama, lay the city of Poughkeepsie, with its church 
spires looming upward, wrapped in snow and ice, and 
glittering in the rays of a winter's sun. Far away 
eastward, clothed in winter's garments, reposed the 
fertile fields of Dutchess, bounded by the rugged 
snowy hills of Connecticut. On the south the High- 
lands terminate the view, and the country is dotted 
with beautiful country seats, mansions, and thriving 
villages. 



THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE 



TOWN OF FISHKILL 



What a contrast do the towns of Fishkill and East 
Fishkill present now with their appearance a century 
and a half ago. Then they were a vast wilderness, 
inhabited only by savages and beasts of prey. The 
traveler in passing through the towns then could wit- 
ness nothing but the Indian singing his war dance or 
kindling the blazing faggot around some expiring cap- 
tive whom he had taken in battle, while his ear was 
greeted with the howling of wolves and the yell of 
panthers. What a change hath been wrought in that 
time ! Now we can witness smiling villages, beauti- 
ful country seats, stately farm houses, and Christian 
temples for the worship of the true God. The philaur 
thropist may rejoice to think that a savage race which 
so long held sway has been exterminated ; and that a 
Christian people now occupy the land ; and the his- 
torian can find ample scope for his mind in gleaning 
over the pages of history in search of knowledge, from 
the first settlement to the present time. 

The first settlement of the original town of Fishkill 
dates back as far as sixteen hundred and eighty-two. 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 315 

Prior to that the original town of Fishkill was purchas- 
ed by Francis Rombout, a distinguished merchant of 
New York city, and Gulyne Ver Planke, for the fol- 
lowing articles, the schedule of which is copied from 
the original Indian deed of sale, in the Book of Patents 
of this State : 

One hun** Royalls, One hun'^ Pound Powder, Two 
hun*^ fathom of White Wampum, one hund Barrs of 
Lead, One hundred fathom of black Wampum, thirty 
tobacco boxes, ten holl adges, thirty Gunns, twenty 
Blankets, forty fathom of Duffills, twenty fathom of 
stroudwater Cloth, thirty Kittles, forty Hatchets, forty 
Homes, forty Shirts, forty p stockins, twelve coates of 
R. B. & b. C, ten Drawing Knives, forty earthen Juggs, 
forty Bottles, forty Knives, fouer ankers rum, ten halfe, 
fatts Beere, two hund*^ tobacco Pipes, &c.. Eighty 
Pound Tobacco. 

This purchase was made of the Wappingers Indians, 
through Claes, an Indian interpreter. 

Rombout's only daughter, Catharine, married a man 
whose name was Roger Brett, and after the death of 
her father, she became sole heir of the patent. She, 
with her husband, in the year 1710, located on the 
patent, where the Teller mansion now stands, and they 
gave her the title of Madam Brett. 

As I have said, the first settlement dates back as far 
as sixteen hundred and eighty-two. The name of the 
first settler was Nicholas Eighmie. He came over 
with an army from Holland, commanded by Prince 
Hupert, the gallant relation of Charles the First, to 
assist that unfortunate monarch in his warfare against 
Hamden, Cromwell and others. He remained in Britain 



316 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

when his Prince retarned, settled in Scotland, and was 
among those who came to America about 1()72 with 
Robert Livingston, the first lord of the manor of Col- 
umbia county. On ship board he became acquainted 
with and married a handsome Dutch girl from Holstein. 
Unwilling to be a mere retainer of Livingston, young 
Eighmie soon left the manor and went to Fort Orange 
(now Albany) with his wife. They first intended to 
settle upon and cultivate an island in the Hudson, just 
below Fort Orange, within Van Rensselaer's manor, 
but the free spirit of Eighmie could not succumb to 
feudal tenor, and in 1682, having saved a little money, 
he started boldly for the then nearly unbroken wilder- 
ness of Dutchess county. He settled himself at the 
mouth of Fishkill Creek, purchased a tract of land or 
the Indians extending from that creek to Poughkeep- 
sie, and eastward to the Connecticut line, the termina- 
tion of New Netherlands in that direction. He soon 
found that the Beekman patent, from Charles the Sec- 
ond, already covered that territory, and that it-belonged 
to another. He purchased a large tract in the Clove, 
in Beekman town, from the charter proprietors, and 
some of it is in possession of his descendents, the Eigh- 
mies, at the present time. 

While at Fishkill, young Eighmie's wife gave birth 
to a daughter, the first white child born within the 
precincts of Dutchess county. About the year 1700 a 
young man from Holstein, whose father and Eighmie's 
had been acquainted in the fader-land, found his way 
to Dutchess county. His name was Peter Lasinck. 
The little Fishkill maiden had grown up to rosy wom- 
anhood, and young Lasinck and Katrina Eighmie wed- 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 317 

ded and settled within the present domain of East Fish- 
kill, and successfully cultivated the soil. They had 
four sons and four daughters, and when the oldest child 
died, the other seven were still living, the youngest 
seventy-five years old. One of the three sons, Wilham 
Lasinck, according to the records of the county, was 
the King's collector of taxes in Fish kill precinct, in 
1726. He was the first born of Peter and Katrina. 

An incident is related which illustrates the necessa- 
ry hardihood and perseverance of the Dutch pioneers. 
Until about the year 1712 there was no blacksmith 
within the present domain of Dutchess county. The 
nearest one to the Fishkill settlers was at Esopus, then 
called Wiltwyck. One of Peter's boys was sent thith- 
er on horseback with a ploughshare to be sharpened, 
lashed to the saddle. Having traveled an Indian trail 
homeward for a dozen miles, the fastenings gave way, 
and the ploughshare fell to the ground ; the point was 
broken, and the lad was compelled to turn back to the 
Esopus blacksmith and have his work done over again. 
Altogether he traveled nearly a hundred miles to have 
a ploughshare prepared for spring use. Our young 
farmers now, with all their new implements and facil- 
ities, have easy times when compared with the difficul- 
ties of their great-grandfathers. 

The next permanent settler was at Fishkill Landing. 
His name was Peche Dewall, and he located there 
in the spring of 1688. He cleared about three acres of 
land and planted his corn as well as he could between 
the stumps of the trees that he had felled. Not hav- 
ing a team, his wife assisted him in tiUing his corn and 
clearing the forest. In the flill he had a tolerable crop 



318 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

of corn, and the following winter he built him a hand- 
sled and went to New York and bought a half bushel 
of salt and a side of sole leather, and drew it home. 
The road from there to New York was most of the way 
nothing but an Indian trail. In the spring he bought 
him a horse for three pounds sterling, which was con- 
sidered fair value for a horse in those days. 

From that time till 1700, Eighmie and Dewallwere 
almost the only settlers on the patent. There were a 
few squatters on the patent that would put up a smaU 
shanty, and stay a year or more, and then abandon it. 

Dutchess county was not settled as early as West- 
chester, Orange, or Ulster counties. As late as 1714 
Dutchess county, including Putnam, contained only 
445 inhabitants, and at a census taken in 1731, West- 
chester county contained 6,033 inhabitants. Orange 
county contained 1,909, Ulster county, 3,728, while 
Dutchess, including Putnam, contained only 1,727 in- 
habitants. Dutchess county in its natural state was 
covered with heavy timber, and the land in many 
places was wet and swampy. The early settlers 
thought it unhealthy. None but the Dutch would 
venture on those grounds. An EngHshman was loth 
to settle on the low grounds of Fishkill, but the Dutch 
were from a low country, Holland, a name derived from 
the low situation of the country, liollow land, and in 
many places lower than the sea, and the water but a 
few feet below the surface and the ocean is backed at 
a prodigious expense by dykes and dams. For the 
draining of its waters innumerable ditches are cut, and 
the waters so drained are carried off by the action of 
windmills and conveyed into canals, whence they are 



i;arly history of fishkill. 319 

conducted by the means of sluices into the rivers. 
Our Dutch ancestors were not afraid of the low 
grounds of Fishiiill, and most of the original town 
was settled by them. Hence they called it Vis Kill — 
in English Fish Creek, and the creek where Fishkill 
Village is now located was the great fishing ground of 
-the Indians. Consequently wdien a Dutchman was 
going to emigrate from Long Island, if he was asked 
where he was going, he would reply, to Vis Kill, in 
Dutchess county. And at this day, epitaphs on the 
old Dutch tombstones in the burying ground at Fish- 
kill Village can be seen with the name of Vis Kill 
upon them. 

As I have said, Eighmie and Dewall were almost 
the only permanent settlers on the patent till the year 
1700. Their situation was by no means enviable. 
Remote from any settlement, tliey were mostly alone. 
Occasionally Dewall would see a vessel sail up the 
river, and sometimes the Captain and crew would 
come ashore and tarry a few hours with him and en- 
tertain him with the news from New York, and when 
they left all was solitary again. The privations and 
iiardships they had to endure, the fear of being mur- 
dered by the savages, and their cattle and sheep des- 
troyed by beasts of prey, and oftentimes during the 
long, severe winter, provisions scarce, heightened their 
troubles. But with iron wills and patient and stubborn 
.industry they persevered, and how it gladdened their 
.hearts when the pioneer began to arrive on the patent, 
and the sound of his axe awoke the silence of the 
forest. 
., From 1700 till 1715 settlements progressed very 



320 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

slowly, mostly along the river. The Indians were 
quite numerous. Their head-quarters were at Fishkill 
Hook. Their Chief, Ninham, had a fort for their de- 
fence, on a hill known as Fort Hill to this day. It is 
located on the farm of Wilham Anning, deceased, and 
some of the ruins may yet be seen. 

Fishkill Hook was the favorable location of the Indi- 
ans. Game was more plenty and the country produc- 
ed more food. They had set out apple orchards, and 
a few of the apple trees still exist on the farm of Wil- 
ham Waldo. They had also a little clearing on the 
farm of Theodore Van Wyck and Johnson, where they 
raised a little Indian corn, a grain wholly unknown in 
Europe, and which has been the means of saving this 
country and Europe from famine several times since it 
became known to the Europeans. But it cannot be 
raised in England, the chmate being too cold and wet. 
It can only be successfully cultivated in the hot Sum- 
mers of our country. 

Theodoris Van Wyck was one of the first settlers in 
Fishkill Hook, and one of his boys, a lad of twelve 
years old, used to go to the Indian village, occasional- 
ly, and the squaws would give him something to eat. 
He happened to go there one day, and they were all 
absent, old as well as young. Their dinner vessel was 
swung over the fire, and he ventured to look in and see 
the contents, and to his surprise he saw a piece of an 
old horse with hair on it, seasoned with some beans, 
and from that time he ate no more with the Indians. 
The reason they were all absent was, they had got 
track of a bear, and they were pushed with hunger, 
and they left their homes and went in pursuit of him. 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 321 

But more about Theodoris Van Wyck hereafter. As 
I have said, as late as 1714, Dutchess county, includ- 
ing Putnam, had only 445 inhabitants, of whom 
only eleven men and one woman were over the age of 
60 years. Here is a list of all the freeholders or heads 
of families, put down on the census of 1714 : 

Jacob Hip, Jacob Plough, Matieis Sleyt, Evert Van 
Wagenen, William Ostrander, Lowrens Ostrout, Peter 
Palmater, Maylvell Pullmatier, William Tetsort, Hen- 
drick Pells, Peter Vely, John Kip, John De Grave, 
Leonard Lewis, Elena Van De Bogart, Bartholomus 
Hogenboom, Baltus Van Kleck, Frans Le Roy, Barent 
Van Kleeck, John Ostrom, Hamen Hinders, Mindert 
Van Der Bogart, Johanes Van Kleck, Lenar Le Roy, 
Swart Van Wagenen, Henry Van Der Burgh, Elias 
Van Bunchoten, Thomas Sanders, Catrine Lasinck, 
Wedo, Peter Lasinck, ey Scouten, Mellen Spring- 
stun, Johnes Terbets, John Beuys, Garatt Van Vleit, 
Abram Beuys, WiUiam Outen, Andreis Daivedes, Frans 
De Langen, Aret Masten, James Husey, Roger Brett, 
Peter De Boyes, Isaac Hendricks, John Breines, Jeurey 
Sprinstan, Peck De Wit, Adaam Van Alssed, Cellitie 
Kool, Harmen Knickerbocker, Johanis Dyckman, Sien- 
jar, Jacob Hoghtslingh, DirckWesselse, Willem Schott, 
Jacob Vosburgh, Tunis Pieterse, Hendrick Bretsiert, 
Roelif Duytser, Johannis Spoor, Junjoor, Abraham Vos- 
burgh, Abraham Van Dusen, Willem Wijt, Lauwerens 
Knickerbocker, Hendrick Sissum, Aenderis Gerdener, 
Gysbert Oosterheut, Johannis Dyckerman, Junjor. It 
is not probable that this census was near complete, as 
the people were much scattered and difficult to find. 
The total population in 1723 was 1,082, and in 1731 



322 EARLY HISTORY OF FISIIKILL. 

it was 1,727, and in 1737 it had increased to 3,086, 
Where Johnsville is now located was originally a 
dense forest, and the small streams that run through 
the village were obstructed with fallen trees, so that 
the water collected in stagnant x>ools and rendered it 
very unhealthy. These pools were the habitation of 
venomous serpents and various amphibious animals, 
such as otter, beaver and musi^rat. The early settlers 
would hardly venture out after dark for fear of being 
bit by some poisonous snake which might be lurking 
near their dweUing. They were obliged to drive their 
cattle and sheep in enclosures every night for fear of 
beasts of prey, and often would the wolves and panth- 
ers break through the enclosures and carry away some 
of their cattle and sheep to their dens in the mountains 
near by. 

The first settler nearest Johnsville w^as Rodolphus 
Swartout. His dwelling was located a few rods north 
of the present residence of James B. Montross, and 
existed as late as 1809. That year it was demoHshed. 
It was a small building, only one story, built of stone. 
Rodolphus had a son whose name was Tomus, and a 
negro slave of the name of Sanco. Tomus and Sanco 
wtM-e employed most of the time in leveling the forest 
and opening roads, in order to get out to the river to 
get a supply of provisions, which would come from 
New York to destitute settlers. One day, as they were 
at work fencing in a small lot near the house, they 
saw a collection of Indians near the present highway. 
They hastened to the spot, and to their surprise they 
saw a dead Indian, and the others were rejoicing over 
him. Tomus asked them who killed that Indian. They 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 323 

all cried out in broken English, "I, I, I." It appeared 
from the information he could gather, the Indian 
belonged to a tribe below the mountains, and they were 
at war with that tribe, and had overtaken him there 
and stoned him to death, and all claimed the honor of 
killing him. His scalp was soon taken off and given 
to their chief, Ninham, as a trophy, which he rewarded 
them for. 

Swartout was a native of Long Island. His parents 
were descendants of the Hollanders and could speak 
the Dutch language only. But Rodolphus had min- 
gled more with the English, and could speak the Dutch 
and English fluently, and could impart information to 
the settlers, whether Dutch or English. Two Eng- 
lishmen whose names were Ogden called on him one 
day to get information with regard to where they 
would locate. They were viewing Madam Brett's 
patent. Swartout showed them through the woods 
and proceeded to where is now the residence of Gener- 
al Abram Van Wyck. Ogden thought it rather low 
and wet, and the labor of clearing and draining the 
land too great an undertaking. As far as the eye could 
reach presented an unbroken forest, and he thought 
that they would proceed farther. They went on through 
the woods an easterly direction until they arrived at 
the top of the mountain not far from where Farmer's 
Mills is now located, and settled, and the land is own- 
ed by their descendants (the Ogdens) at the present 
time. The tract of land that Swartout wanted the 
Ogdens to purchase is now owned by General Abram 
Van Wyck, and was purcliased by Theodoris Van 
Wyck in the year 1736. It is now one of the finest 



324 EARLY HISTORY OF FISIIKILL. 

tracts of land in Dutchess county, and it has been in 
the possession of his descendants till the present time. 
Swartwout's farm contained 400 acres. The heirs 
sold 200 acres, for ,£1,000, to Joseph Burroughs in 
1792, and in 1793 they sold the remainder of the farm 
to Adam Montross, who came from Westchester coun- 
ty, for £1,200, and his descendants still retain it. The 
Montross farm then included all of Johnsville on the 
north side of the road. 

East of Swartout settled an Englislunan whose name 
was John Wood. He was a carpenter by trade, and 
the house he built existed as late as 1816. It was 
located on the precise spot where C. Delevan now lives. 
That year it was taken down and the present stately 
edifice was erected by Nathan Sherwood, who then 
owned the farm. Wood kept a tavern there till his 
death, which took place in the year 1791. He was 
buried in the Presbyterian church yard near Brincker- 
hoffville, and the following epitaph is on the tombstone 
erected at the head of his grave : 

"This monument is erected to the memory of John 
Wood, late of Fishkill ; he died January 31st, 1791, 
aged 59 years, 8 months and 15 days. He possessed 
a fine, clear estate, which he acquired by his prudence 
and industry. His beginning was no other than his 



"Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee. 
And now am careless what thou sayest of me, 

Thy smiles I court not, nor thy fi'owns I fear. 
My cares are past, my head lies quiet here, 

What faults you saw in me take care to shun, 
And look at home — enough is to be done." 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 325 

After leaving a handsome dower to his widow he 
bequeathed the remainder to his nephews, nieces, and 
charitable uses. 



Way. He came from Long Island with several others. 
Among them were the BrinckerhofTs, Depuysters, 
Algarks, Woods, and others. Way was by trade a 
mason, and he built his own house mostly himself. It 
was located near the foot of the hill known as the Way 
hill to this day. Where the house stood is now the 
property of General A. Van Wyck. Way purchased 
his farm, then a wilderness, of Madam Brett, and lived 
there the remainder of his life on the premises. He 
had several sons. One by the name of Ouise settled 
on a corner of the farm now owned by Charles L. Du 
Bois. Way's widow survived him a few years, and 
after her death the farm was sold. The purchaser was 
Benjamin Burroughs, who lived adjoining Way. Bur- 
roughs died in the year 1812, and his heirs sold the 
whole tract, including the Way and the Burrough farm. 
The house which Way built was taken down by Ben- 
jamin Burroughs, and a new one erected on the north 
side of the hill just spoken of. The Ways were very 
fond of the chase^ and spent much time in hunting. 

The first settler east of Burroughs was John Bedell, 
who leased a farm of Madam Brett. He was Captain 
of a militia company in Rombout Precinct in the Rev- 
olution. This farm contained 200 acres of land. Be- 
dell kept a tavern and company trainings were held 
there. After Madam Brett's decease, this farm was 
sold by the heirs to Robert Benson, of the city of New 
York. Benson sold it to Simon Schouten in 1795, for 



326 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

371 pounds. Schouten kept tavern there, too. The 
old house stood a little west of the present one ; it was 
painted red and was destroyed by fire in 1843. In 
those days it was not necessary for a tavern to be loca- 
ted on the main road to do business ; in fact there were 
no thoroughfares and a tavern located on cross roads 
would do its share of business, and Schouten's tavern 
was a rendezvous for the surrounding country. There 
the inhabitants would congregate. Horse racing, raf- 
fling, and shooting matches tooii place there, especial- 
ly on training and holidays, and when the horses were 
■ ready and mounted, the road fence along the highway 
that leads to Johnsville was lined with men and boys ; 
and women, too, would sometimes turn out to see the 
race. Turkeys, geese, and fowls of all descriptions, 
were set up at a certain distance as a mark for the 
sharp shooters, who would venture a few pence for a 
chance to tiy their luck, and the best marksman took 
the bird. This was a flivorite sport on Christmas and 
New Years. The poorest shooter treated all around. 
Schouten let one of Bedell's sons have a field to culti- 
vate, who put in a crop of wheat, and when he harves- 
ted it he put it in shocks, and then they undertook to 
divide the crop. There was an odd number of shocks. 
That shock they both claimed. Finally it led to an 
anory discussion. At the same time a tliunder shower 
was rising in the west, and the roar of the thunder and 
the flashes of lightning were incessant, but they heeded 
not the fury of the elements, when suddenly a flash of 
lightning struck the shock of wheat they were conten- 
ding about, and set it on fire, and in a few minutes it 
was consumed. This ended the dispute, and there was 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 327 

no furtlier difficulty in dividing the crop. In 1S02 
Schouten sold this farm to Garret Dii Bois for $4,200. 
His descendants still hold it. 

The next farm south was a lease farm of Madam 
Brett to one Brown. After her decease this lease was 
extinguished, and Robert R. Brett, son of the Madam, 
sold the farm, containing 115f acres, to Henry Char 
lock, for ^2-55. A wood lot on the mountain was 
included in the sale. Charlock built a new house and 
erected a grist mill on the Wiccopee, a creek which 
runs close to the house. He dressed in the ancient 
English costume. He wore a cue and small clothes. 
He often officiated as a Baptist clergyman, preaching 
in private houses and schoolhouses, as churches then 
were few and far between. The old mill was taken 
down many years ago. Charlock came from New Eng- 
land. 

The farm south of Charlock was in possession of 
Samuel Cure, at an early day. Cure sold tiiis farm in 
the early part of the present century to Jacob Ladue, 
and removed to western New York. 

The next farm south of Cure's was a lease farm, too. 
After Madam Brett's decease it was held by her heirs 
for some years, and finally it was sold to William Bes- 
ley, April 27th, 1796, for one thousand seven hundred 
and fifteen pounds. It contained 309 acres. Besley 
was a native of Westchester county. This farm exten- 
ded south to the great Highland Patent. The Indian 
tribe who sold this tract of land to Rombout remained 
in Fishkill Hook long after Rombout bought their lands. 
They claimed this farm as a reservation, until finally 
they removed and united with other tribes west. This 



328 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

was the last one given up by them. Their villages and 
apple orchards were located on this and the farm now 
owned by Charles Emans. Many Indians lingered in 
Fishkill until after the French and Indian wars, and 
then they all left Fishkill. Some of the Ninham tribe 
came back at different times, and pretended to claim 
this farm, as they had never signed away their right 
and title. Sometimes they would remain a month or 
more, camping in the woods, begging provisions of the 
neighbors, and shooting what game they could find in 
the woods to subsist on, and then return to their homes 
in the west. 

We will now return to tlie place from whence we 
started, and take the west Hook. South of Bedell was 
a lease farm of Madam Brett. The lessee's name was 
John Way. After her decease this farm, by heirship, 
came in possession of Robert Brett, grandson of Madam, 
who made this farm his home and died there in 1S31, 
in the SOth year of his age. After his death his son 
James inherited the farm and still retains it. This 
farm has always remained in the Brett family, and the 
present owner, Mr. James Brett, is now 82 years of 
age, and retains the full possession of his faculties, and 
is the nearest heir of Madam Brett now living, being 
her great-grand son. He married his wife in West- 
chester county, 53 years ago. She is yet enjoying 
good health. Mr. Brett erected a new house on this 
farm in 1842. The writer obtained from him valuable 
information. 

The next farm or farms south was also lease land, 
and the heirs of Madam Brett sold a large tract to 
Nathaniel and William Ladue. The Ladues were of 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 329 

French descent. Stephen was the first that located in 
the town. His wife was the first who was interred in 
the Presbyterian burying ground at Brinckerhoffville. 
This was on the 27th of September, 1747. It appears 
that the Ladues occupied lease or tenant farms until 
after the Revolution, when they bought these lands as 
stated above. The old Ladue house stood nearly on 
the site of the one where James Ladue now resides. 
It was built pioneer fashion, painted red, and was 
demohshed about the year 1851. 

West of the Ladue purchase settled John Bloomer 
and Bram Wood. Joseph Carey settled south of Wood. 
His farm extended to the great highland patent. His 
grandson, Thomas, now resides on the farm and has 
built a large double house in place of the old one. 
Hans Dubois settled north of Bloomer, on the farm 
now owned by Isaac Carey, who demolished the old 
Dubois house some 23 years ago, and built the present 
noble structure. 

South of the Ladues settled John Jewell. The Jew- 
ells sold this farm after the war of 1812. It is now 
owned by Mrs. Merritt. John Van Tassel settled west 
of the Jewells at an early day. South of Van Tassel was 
one Clark. Stone, who built a little house on the moun- 
tain. Reuben Wood and wife have lived on this place 
57 years. Wood bought the place when first married. 

South of Wood settled Michael Shaw. The old log 
house stood opposite the present residence of John 
Smith. His son Michael inherited this farm after his 
death in 1817. Michael demolished the log house and 
built the house where Smith now lives. This farm 
extended to the great Highland patent. 



330 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL, 

We are now through with Fishkill Hook, and will 
commence near the Cure farm, mentioned above, and 
follow the road leading to Shenandoah. The first one 
we shall mention is Edward Perry. Of him little is 
known. A. Scofield and then WiUiam Anning lived 
on this farm. It is now ow^ned by John Merritt. 

The next farm was a lease farm. Marvin Rowland 
was about the first occupant. It does not appear that 
he remained there long. He came from Long Island, 
and was a wheelright by trade. In the Revolution he 
lived on a corner of the farm now owned by Charles L. 
Dubois, known in this history as the Way farm. The 
house that he lived in was built by Francis Way for 
his son Ouise. This house was demolished about 1804. 
Rowland set up his business in Johnsville in 1799. In 
1807 he removed to the Highlands, where he lived the 
remainder of his life. Daniel Lane lived on this farm 
in the Revolution. It is now owned by H. D. B. Sher- 
wood. 

East of this farm was a farm in possession of Stock- 
hobn, and in 1794 it was sold to Benjamin Hufcchins. 
Hutchins was a blacksmith by trade and was a thriv- 
ing man, adding farm to farm. After his death his son 
Israel came in possession of it. It is now owned by 
the Shenandoah Mining Company. 

The next farm was owned at an early day Harmy 
Hilliker. It contained six hundred acres, and extended 
to Shenandoah on the south, and included what is now 
known as the Jaycox farm, the Griffin farm, the War- 
ren farm, and the Phillips farm. The old house that 
Hilliker lived in, stood in a field west of the residence 
of John Jaycox. It long since disappeared. Hilliker 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 331 

owned one of the best farms in that vicinity, but he 
was not a thrifty man, and on this large farm he grew 
poorer every year. He hired a man whose name was 
Griffin, by the year, and when the year came around, 
Harmy was short. He had no money and Griffin 
took his note for services rendered ; but Griffin was 
very economical, he used very little money, and Har- 
ray's note he thought would answer, and then he 
would hire to him for another year, and when another 
year elapsed, Harmy was in the same condition that 
he was the preceding year, when Griffin would take 
his note again, and so it continued from year to year. 
Finally Griffin, to get his pay, bought a ftirm of Har- 
my, who commenced selling off his poorest land first, 
and his six hundred acres lasted not much longer than 
be lasted, and wliat little there was left after his deatli 
was soon spent. 

The first settler in Shenandoah was Peter Rickey. 
He built the first house. It stood south of the present 
residence of Seymour Baxter, near where is a cluster of 
old pear trees. It was an ancient structure, with a long 
stoop, and was never painted. Rickey had several sons. 
He built a house for one of them. It stood just south 
of the Baptist Church. The Rickeys kept the first 
tavern and store in Shenandoah. When the first shows 
or menageries traveled through the country, an ele- 
phant would create almost as much excitement as 
liarnum's great show does at the present day. A 
show came to Shenandoah and stopped at Rickey's. 
The people had notice of its coming some days pre- 
vious, by one of the company, who represented that 
they had recently imported from Africa an animal that 



332 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

heretofore was unknown in natural history, called a 
Dodo. This show drew out a large crowd, but the 
Dodo proved to be nothing what it was represented 
to be, some spurious animal w^hich they had picked 
up to make money. The Shenandoahians seeing 
that they were sold, tore down the tent and carried 
the Dodo and a Shetland pony into Rickey's tavern. 
They then informed the showman that he must refund 
their money, if not, they would not deliver up his 
Dodo nor pony. The showman was in a dilemma, and 
did not know which w^ay to proceed. Finally he of- 
fered to compromise with them by treating the crowd. 
This was at once agreed to, and then the showman got 
his animals and beat a hasty retreat, glad to get off 
so. Daniel Quick bought this farm in 1807, of Sam- 
uel Halsey. In 1812 he sold it to John Finch, who 
kept a tavern there. After his death Isaac Knapp 
bought the farm and lived there. He built a new 
house and died in 1859, in the ninety-fifth year of his 
age The two Rickey houses have long since disap- 
peared. 

The first settler south of Rickey's was David Gilder- 
sleeve. The house stood north of the present resi- 
dence of Natlianiel Sprague. It was built of logs and 
not a vestige of it remains. 

The Knapps came into Shenandoah just at the close 
of the Revolution. The first one, whose name was 
Mier, came from East Chester, Connecticut, and bought 
a large farm at the base of the Shenandoah mountain, 
for £d per acre, with only a log house on the farm. 
The country south of Knapp's was then mostly a 
wilderness. Mier Knapp had tw^o sons, Isaac and 



EAELY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 333 

Enos. They were thrifty men. Isaac brought up a 
large family and he lived to see his children and grand- 
children settled around him. He came in possession of 
all the Eickey property, and as I have said, died on 
the Rickey farm at the advanced age of ninety-five 
years. Enos, his brother, died on the farm his father 
purchased. The farm is still ow^ned by their descen- 
dants. 

The next settler or squatter up the mountain v^as 
John Miller, who came from Westchester county. His 
flirm extended to the Great Highland Patent. Some 
of his descendants live there at the present time. 

Starting again from the forks of the road where 
Abram Knapp lives, the next house was a log one. 
It stood nearly opposite the residence of Daniel Gil- 
bert. Grace Picket lived there in the Revolution. No 
trace of this house now exists. 

David Taylor was the next settler. He erected 
a grist mill on a small stream, where he built his 
house. David Horton lived there many years and car- 
ried on the milling business. The property is now 
owned by his descendants. The mill has been torn 
down. 

Henry Dingee was the next settler. The Hortons 
came in possession of the farm at an early day. James 
was the first who came from the Eastern States. 

We again reach the Highland Patent. Now we will 
start from Shenandoah and proceed noi'th to Gayhead. 
The fii-st house north of Harmy Hilliker's was what is 
now known as the Strang farm. Caleb Rider lived 
there at an early day. Daniel Strang, who came from 
Westchester county, purchased this farm at the close 



334 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

of the war of 1812. It is now owned by Mr. Higels- 
ton. 

The next farm is known as the Fosgate place. He 
manuflictured brick at an early day. The farm is now 
owned by John Tompkins. 

The i^lgarks came next. They came direct from 
Holland, and settled on the farm now owned by Oliver 
Barns. They erected a stone house, which stood just 
south of Mr. Barn's barn. The Algarks were very in- 
dustrious and were the main supporters of the Hope- 
well Church when it was first organized. It does not 
appear that they left fiimilies, for the name was extinct 
at the beginning of the present century. One of them 
left a farm to Hopewell Church. Benjamin Hutchins 
came in possession of the farm in the early part of the 
present century. It is now owned by his descendants. 

The first settler at Gayhead was Aaron Van Vlack, 
who came direct from Holland and purchased 600 
acres of land of Madam Brett when the country was a 
wilderness. He built a log house just south of the 
residence of Abram Van Vlack, who is one of the lin- 
eal descendants, a great grandson. Aaron had several 
sons, one, whose name was Aaron, remained on the 
homestead. Tunis settled at the village of Gayhead. 
Marinus settled on the Hasbrouck form. Tliis farm 
has recently been purchased again by Abram Van 
Vlack. Another son, whose name was Abram, settled 
on the place now the residence ol James O. Swart- 
wout, and another settled on the farm owned by Bar- 
tow, formerly known as the Flagler farm. Tunis built 
the first grist mill at Gayhead. The tavern and store 
is an ancient structure. By whom and when they 



EAlihY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 335 

were built is vague and uncertain. It is said that 
Ray nor and Hasbrouck kept a store there after the 
Revolution. The father of the writer carried on the 
mercantile business in the old building with a partner 
whose name was Coert Horton, in 1804. Then Horton 
owned the property. The partnership lasted three 
years. When my father went to New York to pur- 
chase goods, he took his bed and provisions with him, 
and on his return from the city, when the sloop arrived 
at Fishkill Landing, if his team was not there he would 
have to walk to Grayhead, a distance of twelve miles. 
There was no conveyance then to take people to and 
from the Landing, because there were so few passen- 
gers that it would not pay. The population was too 
sparse. My father often tried to tind some one to take 
him to Gayhead, but could not get any one. The 
sloop, too, in those days, arrived at Fishkill Landing 
at no definite time. It depended upon the wind and 
weather. 

Then there was no church in the town below Fish- 
kill Village. The Rev. Dr. Cornehus D. Westbrook 
was installed pastor of the Reformed Dutch Church in 
1808. He used to lecture at Fishkill Landing in a 
small schoolhouse which then stood on the old Fishkill 
road, about half way between Fishkill Landing and 
Matteawan, once a fortnight, perhaps oftener. That 
vi^as all of the preaching there was then below Fishkill 
Village, except occasionally a Methodist circuit rider, 
as they were then called, would ride through the coun- 
try on horseback and preach in schoolhouses, barns, 
and private houses, as then there was no Methodist 
Church in the town, and only one in the county. 



336 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

The Hortons, two brothers, Joseph and Coert, came 
from Murderers Creek, Orange county, at the close of 
the Revolution. They purchased the Van Vlack farm 
and mill, store and tavern. Their descendants own the 
property, except the store and tavern, which has been 
recently sold. Aaron Van Vlack, the first settler men- 
tioned above, was interred in a burying ground on his 
farm, east of the log house that he built. This was 
the first burying ground in East Fishkill. Hopewell 
Church was not built until 1764, and until that time 
the pioneers, with the exception of those who had 
vaults, all buried their dead tliere. This yard has all 
been buried over, and with but few exceptions only, a 
rough stone taken from the fields marks the spot where 
the early settlers lie. 

Aaron Van Vlack, son of the first settler, and grand- 
father of Abram, who now owns the farm, was one of 
the men who contributed largely when the first church 
of Hopewell was erected. This church was built of 
wood. An oaken frame of hewn timber was taken 
from the forests near where the church stood. The 
church had a gambril roof, with a tower in front ; sur- 
mounting the tower was a tapering spire ; at its apex 
was a ball, and a rooster crowned the summit. Every 
Dutch churcli in those days had a rooster on top of the 
steeple. There is but one church now in the county 
that is crowned with a rooster, and that is the Reform- 
ed Church at Fishkill. Hopewell Church stood seven- 
ty years, when it was taken down, not on account of 
its decay, but because it was not up with the times. 
When the present structure was erected, forty years 
ago, and finished, it was thought to eclipse anything 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 337 

of the kind in the country. There was then a poet in 
the congregation, whose name was Heton, who com- 
posed some verses on the occasion. The writer only 
recollects a few lines, which are as follows : 

"The deuce knows what all, 

New Hopewell Church, and that does top all, 

O yes, 'tis true, I say. 

Something new starts every day." 

This church has had an addition added to it, a rear 
entrance and modern pulpit, since it was built, and has 
been most splendidly frescoed. 

The first church of New Hackensack was built two 
years after the first church in Hopewell. It was built 
similar to Hopewell Church, and after standing seven- 
ty years, it was demoHshed and the present beautiful 
structure was erected. This church has recently had 
modern pews put in place of the old ones, and other- 
wise materially altered. 

The next settler north of Aaron Van Vlack's was 
Schouten and John Luyster, who came from Long 
Island about 1740. Luyster's descendants now own 
the farm. Lock and Peter Bush were the first settlers 
where now is the residence of Daniel Bull. The next 
settler north of Luyster was John BrinckerhofF. Dr. 
Dennis Workman owned and resided on this farm the 
latter part of his life and died there. It is now owned 
by Cornelius K. Van Wyck. 

The next settler was Cornelius Swartout, known at 
the present day as the Rapalyee farm. This farm 
reaches to the Hopewell road. One of the first settlers 
in lower Hopewell was Richard Van Wyck, a descen- 



338 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

dant of Cornelius Van Wyck, of Fislikill. He located 
where now is the residence of Lawrence Rapalyee. 
When this county was first settled, it was thought that 
these lands were worthless. The pioneers went around 
them, and when Van Wyck located there a great deal 
of that country laid out to the commons, and was cov- 
ered with shrub oaks, and it was thought that Van 
Wyck would starve, notwithstanding that he owned 
several hundred acres of land, but the shrub oaks soon 
disappeared under skillful cultivation. Richard had 
two sons, Theodoris R., who was elected to the Leg- 
islature in 1803 and '4, and afterwards elected Judge, 
and Cornelius, who built the house west of Rapalyee. 
The farm is now owned by his descendants. 

New Hackensack was settled by emigrants from 
Hackensack, New Jersey. The Van Benschotens, 
Snadikers, and Vanderbilts, were among the first set- 
tlers. It was named after Hackensack, New Jersey. 
The Monforts were the first settlers on Fishkill Plains. 
Tliey came from Flatlands, Long Island, about 1740. 
There were two or three Peters. One settled along 
Sprout creek ; he went by the name of Sprout Peter. 

The first settler east of Gayliead was William Schutt, 
who purchased a farm of Madam Brett, October 29th, 
1732, one hundred and fifty acres, for £12-5. This 
farm was purchased of Schutt by James Emans, who 
came from Long Island about 1760. His descendants 
still own it. 

The next settler was Benjamin Hasbrouck, who 
built a stone house, still standing. He died in 1700, 
and was buried in the Van Vlack burying ground. 

East of Cortlandville, on the road leading to Far- 



EAKLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 



339 



mers Mills, Ostrander and Wiltsie were the first settlers. 
Honers Hill took its name from the first settler, who 
located on its top, and the Ogdens, whom we have 
mentioned, and Tompkins, who settled near the Black 
pond, again reaches the great Highland patent. 

In giving an outline of the early history of the orig- 
inal town, it appears that after Madam Brett's death 
there were many lease farms in the east portion of her 
patent, in Fishkill Hook, extending east towards Shen- 
andoah. After her death the heirs extinguished those 
leases and divided the property, as directed by her will, 
and then sold to actual settlers. 

The first settler of the village of Johnsville, the an- 
cient name of which was Wiccopee, was Johannas 
Swartwout. He having no money, leased the farm of 
Madam Brett for three fat fowls a year, the farm being 
covered with a dense forest. He soon cleared a small 
spot and erected a log house near an excellent spring 
of water, and in the year 1750 he set out an apple 
orchard-, many of the apple trees still exist, one taken 
down some twelve years ago was twelve feet around 
at its base, and fifty feet high. After Madam Brett's 
death this farm by heirship came in possession of Rom- 
bout Brett, a grandson of hers, who located on it in 
the year 1770. He sold six acres of! to a blacksmith, 
whose name was Wilham Cushman. The deed was 
given in October, 1783. He was the first mechanic 
in Johnsville. The American army encamped near 
•Fishkill Village in the time of the Revolution, and 
their barracks then standing were given to the inhabi- 
tants. Cushman, with the help of his neighbors, went 
to the barracks with teams, and hauled up the timber 



340 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

for his liouse and blacksmith shop, and built them that 
year. The house did not front the street as it does 
now, but fronted the south, and the roof was very 
steep and only one story. The house was painted 
Spanish brown. A small portion of it is still standing, 
the other was taken down in 1814 and rebuilt by the 
father of the waiter. In 1807 the father of the writer 
purchased this house and lot of Thomas Youngs, for 
$1500, and the writer, who was born there in Decem- 
ber, 1813, sold the premises to Jeremiah Concklin m 
1866. Rombout Brett sold this farm to Peter Monfort 
in the year 1787, who came from Long Island and set- 
tled on Fishkill Plains, He gave the form to his son 
Adrian, who came there in the spring of 1787, and 
lived there till his death, which took place in the year 
1849, at the advanced age of ninety-four years. The 
farm is now owned by Floyd Quick. 

The next settler in Johnsville was Joseph Wood. 
His house was located on the precise spot where Mrs. 
Wood now lives. Like most of the dwellings of the 
first settlers, it was built only one story, with a long 
stoop in front. The roof of the house extended over 
sufficient to form the roof of the stoop. The house 
had very small windows, as window glass was very 
dear, which made the rooms very dark. There was 
no wall overhead, and the large timbers were uncov- 
ered, and the fire places were large enough to take in 
wood cord lengths. The upper part was finished barn 
fashion, with the shutters made in the gable ends to 
open so as to admit the hght. The house was covered 
with cypress and white wood, and never was painted. 
The floors were laid with white oak. Wood, being 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 341 

located near the mountain, was very much annoyed 
by beasts of prey, and he drove his sheep and cattle 
in enclosures nights, and often they would attempt to 
break through. His cattle yard was so situated that 
from his window he could shoot in the direction of the 
wolves and panthers when they attempted to molest 
them, and often the noise of those beasts woke him in 
the night. He would shoot from his garret window, 
and often would do good execution, for in the morning 
he would find a wolf or panther that he had shot. This 
dwelHng house was taken down in the year 1830, and 
the present dwelling was erected by Cornelius Ostran- 
der, who then owned the farm. They were the only 
dwellings there as late as 1807. 

The next settler west on the road leading to Fishkill 
Village, was Francis DeLangdon. The house that he 
built was taken down in the year 1844, and the pres- 
ent dwelling built by John Secord. It is now owned 
by Joseph Sherwood. Near the house stands a large 
pine tree, and in the Revolution a cow-boy was hung 
on this tree. The cow-boys were a set of outlaws that 
would form themselves in a banditti and rob and plun- 
der for a living, having no fixed habitation. They fig- 
ured more conspicuously in the county of Westchester, 
near the American and British lines. Sometimes they 
would rob their nearest neighbors, inflicting cruel pun- 
ishment to extort from them where their money was 
secreted, hanging them sometimes a certain length of 
time with their heads downwards, and committing 
depredations regardless of party. Whenever one of 
these cow-boys was taken he was hung without judge 
or jury. One was captured near Johnsville; he was 



342 EARLY HISTOEY OF B^ISHKILL. 

immediately taken to this tree and hung. The rope 
was fastened to a large limb that shoots out over the 
highway. Langdon's farm extended along the high- 
way to what now is known as the white bridge. The 
road then did not cross there. It continued along 
Fishkill Creek and intersected the road in the High- 
lands that leads to Fishkill Village. 

The next settler was Cornelius Van Wyck, w^ho 
purchased a large tract of land of Madam Brett in the 
year 1733, extending along the valley south of Fishkill 
Village to the top of the mountain, containing nine 
hundred and fifty-nine acres, one rood, exactly, for the 
sum of seven hundred and four pounds eighteen shil- 
lings, current money of the Province of New York. 
He came from Hempstead, Queens county, Long Island. 
This tract of land is now owned by the heirs of Cor- 
nelius Burroughs, Mrs. Cotheal, and the Van Wyck 
family. He built his house where Sidney Van Wyck 
now resides. 

Crossing the white bridge, the first settlers where 
the Brinckerhoffs. They purchased a large tract of 
land of Madam Brett, in 1721, about 1700 acres, ex- 
tending from Brinckerhoffville north to Swartwoutville, 
and west to the residence of H. D. B. Sherwood. One 
whose name was Abram, kept a store in Brinckerhoff- 
ville during the Revolution. The old building was 
demolished a few years ago by Matthew Brinckerhoff, 
who still owns a part of the tract of hind. Abram 
Brinckerhofl built the mills now known as Dudley's 
Mills. They were destroyed by fire in the time of the 
Revolution, and the American army encamping near 
Fishkill, General Washington gratuitously offered a 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 343 

sufficient number of men to rebuild at once the mills 
tlius destroyed. Accordingly a large number of sol- 
diers were immediately set to work, some in hauling 
timber, some as carpenters, hewing and framing, and 
in a short time the present mills were ready to com- 
mence operations. 

In the time of the Revolution tea was very scarce, 
and Brinckerhotf having a quantity on hand, he charged 
an exorbitant price, so that it was beyond the reach of 
the inhabitants. The women of Fishkill and Beekman 
could not afford to purchase the article, which exas- 
perated them very much. Accordingly they mustered 
an army of one hundred, commanded by one Mrs. 
Catharine Schutt, and marching in military order in 
front of his store, demanded him to sell his tea at the 
lawful price of six shilhngs per pound. Brinckerhoff 
still hesitated, but Mrs. Catharine Schutt mounting her 
charger, said if he did not accommodate them with tea 
from his store at that price, they would proceed to 
throw his tea and merchandise out of doors. Brinck- 
erhoff, seeing it was useless to desist, accommodated 
them with tea at the price demanded, and the women 
quietly dispersed. 

Abram Brinckerhoff was a great patriot in the time 
of the Revolution. General Washington, Lafayette, 
and staff, coming through from Hartford to West Point 
in the time of Arnold's treason, tarried one night with 
him, and they left the day that Arnold received news 
from Andre that he was captured, and the whole plot 
was discovered, and advising him to make his escape 
as soon as possible. Arnold was at breakfast at the 
Robinson House, in Putnam county, situated on the 



344 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

east bank of the Hudson, about two miles below West 
Point, near the base of Sugar Loaf, one of the lofty 
peaks of the Highlands. Arnold was in the act of 
breaking an egg, when a messenger arrived in great 
haste, and handed him a letter which he read with 
deep and evident emotion. The self control of the 
soldier enabled Arnold to suppress the agony which he 
endured after reading the letter. He arose hastily 
from the table, told his aid that his immediate presence 
was required at West Point, and desired them to inform 
General Washington when he arrived. Having first 
ordered a horse to be ready, he hastened to Mrs, Ar- 
nold's chamber, and there with a bursting heart dis- 
closed to her his dreadful position, and that they must 
part perhaps forever. Struck with horror at the pain- 
ful intelligence, his fond and devoted wife swooned 
away and fell senseless at his feet. In that state he 
left her, hurried down stairs and mounting his horse, 
rode with all possible speed to the river. In doing so 
Arnold did not keep the main road, but passed down 
the mountain, pursuing a by-path through the woods, 
which is now called Arnold's path. 

The Presbyterian church at Brinckerhoffville was 
the first Presbyterian church in the town. The society 
was organized in January, 1748, and the first church 
was built in 1750. The material used for the building 
was wood. In height it was two stories. The win- 
dows in the lower story had tight shutters, and one 
window shutter had a small aperture in it shaped like 
a crescent, so as to admit the light to guide the sexton 
right when opening the church. The center pews had 
very high backs, so when seated nothing could be s^n 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 345 

of a person but his head. The side pews were square, 
with seats all around, surmounted with high raiHngs, 
and seating twelve persons. 

The pulpit was in the rear of the church, and was 
shaped like a wine glass, and over it was the sounding 
board fastened to the ceiling with iron rods. The 
stairs leading to the pulpit were on the left, and ascend- 
ing three steps they turned, and three more led to the 
door of the pulpit. Along the edge of the stairs was 
a balustrade. The galleries were very high, supported 
by heavy columns, and the minister could not be seen 
from the rear seats in the gallery. The arch extended 
only to the front of the galleries, and under it were 
large timbers extending across the church to keep the 
building from swaying or leaning. Those timbers 
were planed and beaded and handsomely carved. This 
church suffered much damage during the Revolution. 

While the American army was encamped south of 
Fishkill Village, the soldiers would get a permit to 
leave their encampment, and they would stroll about 
the country. They often came to Abram Brincker- 
hoff's store, and they stripped the siding from the 
Presbyterian church as high as they could reach, to 
boil their camp kettles. They destroyed most of the 
fence along the highway from Brinckerhoftville to 
Fishkill Village. 

In the year 1830 this church was demolished and a 
noble structure erected, which was destroyed by fire 
on the 5th of March, 1866. The fire was discovered 
about two o'clock in the morning, when the flames 
had made such progress that it was impossible to save 
any of the interior. All of the church furniture was 



346 EARLY HISTORY OF FISIIKILL. 

destroyed ; the towering steeple fell with a tremen- 
dous crash about four o'clock. As the wind blew very 
strong from the north, other buildings were at one 
time in imminent danger of taking fire. 

This church was tw^o stories in height, built of lime- 
stone, and roofed with cedar shingles. The steeple 
went up in three sections : over the upper section was 
the lantern, surmounting that was a large ball, studded 
with arrows, and terminating with a forked prong at 
the top. In front of the church was a portico sup- 
ported by heavy columns, with a floor of flagstones 
inlaid with brick. Over the portico, in front of the 
church, was a Venetian window, with a circular stone 
bearing date, 1830. A heavy belt of cornice crossed 
the church, both front and rear, over the upper story. 
The gallery extended all around the church, supported 
by heavy columns, and a moderate arch extended the 
whole width of the church. The first pulpit was in the 
front of the church, with a flight of stairs on either 
side, leading to it. All along the edge of the pulpit 
and the stairs was a balustrade of mahogany, trimmed 
with green damask of different shades. This pulpit 
w^as taken down some years ago, and a new one erect- 
ed. The floor of the church was elevated so that those 
sitting in the rear seats could see the minister without 
difficulty. The extreme height of the steeple was one 
hundred and nine feet above the portico. 

How the fire originated is a mystery. On Sunday 
was communion, and the services were longer than 
usual, and there was little or no fire in the church 
when the congregation left, as the sexton made no fire 
after the services commenced, and it was some fifteen 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 347 

hours after the services before the church took fire ; 
and from where the stoves were located to the chim- 
ney was some sixty feet, and the latter was embedded 
in the wall of the church, which was thought perfectly 
secure from danger. The loss was over $8,000, on 
wiiich there was no insurance. The congregation was 
small, but wealthy. 

The first minister of this church was Rev. Chaun- 
cey Graham, and he divided his labors equally between 
Fishkill and Poughkeepsie precincts. The parsonage 
that belongs to the church w^as given by Madam Brett 
in the year 1750, containing ten acres of land. There 
was an Academy some rods east of the parsonage, built 
before the Revolution, but what year is not known. 
Graham had the supervision of it at that time. It was 
surmounted with a cupola and bell, and after the Rev- 
olution it was taken down and rebuilt at Poughkeep- 
sie, and afterwards known as the Dutchess County 
Academy. Graham died in the year 1784, and was 
buried in the churchyard, and the following epitaph is 
on the tombstone placed at the head of his grave : 

"In memory of the Rev. Chauncey Graham, who 
was born at Stafl^ord, N. England, Sept. 8th, 1727, and 
departed this Hfe March 30th, 1784, aged 56 years and 
7 months." 

The first settlers in Fishkill Village were Henry 
Terboss, and Rosekrance. Terboss' house was located 
near where Dr. Bartow White now lives. He was a 
very eccentric man. When the controversy arose in 
the Dutch church, he left and went to the Presbyte- 
rian cluirch at Brinckerhoffville. On one Sabbath 
morning he ordered his negroes to harness his horses, 



348 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

and attach them to a large lumber wagon, and he took 
them with him to church, and marching to one of the 
square pews, opening the door ordered them seated, 
and seated himself among them. It caused a great 
excitement in the congregation. Some were greatly 
incensed, others were much amused. But some of the 
grave members waited on him after church, and in- 
formed him not to take his slaves in the pew with him 
again, as there was a portion of the gallery alloted to 
them. He never repeated it afterward. 

Fishkill Village contains some Revolutionary classic 
ground. A portion of the American army was located 
half a mile south of the village, and the headquarters 
were at the house now occupied by Sidney Van Wyck, 
generally called the Wharton House. The soldiers' 
graveyard was situated near the base of the mountain. 
The small pox broke out in the army, and the Episco- 
pal church was used as a hospital, and the old Dutch 
church as a prison. The Episcopal church was built 
about 1770, and was formerly surmounted with a tow- 
ering steeple. After standing a half a century it was 
taken off, it being considered dangerous. The same 
church still exists. 

The reason why the army encamped near Fishkill 
Village was, that Sir Henry Clinton had sent his fleet 
up the river to reinforce Burgoyne, who was getting 
hemmed in at Saratoga. They sailed up the river as 
far as Hudson, and hearing that Burgoyne had surren- 
dered, returned. The Americans, supposing that they 
would effect a landing, collected this aniiy near Fish- 
kill Village to give them battle. The British army 
created great alarm when sailing up the Hudson, 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 349 

among the inhabitants in Fishkill. Many families fled 
to Beekman and Pawling, and some sought refuge even 
in Connecticut. 

In the Revolution Fishkill Village contained two 
churches, the Reformed Dutch and the Episcopal, and 
one hotel kept by James Cooper. This hotel was de- 
stroyed by fire in December, 1873. It also contained 
some twelve or fourteen dwellings, two or three me- 
chanics, and a school house. The school house was 
located on the south side of Main street, near John 
Beecher's blacksmith shop. It was built before the 
Revolution. On the south side of Main street, as late 
as the year 1800, there were but two dwelhngs, and 
the school house just spoken of. 

The first settler west of Fishkill Village was John 
N. Bailey. The house he built was taken down a few 
years ago, and a splendid mansion has since been erect- 
ed. Bailey left in the spring of 1778, and removed to 
Poughkeepsie. The next settler was Zebulon South- 
ard, who purchased his farm of Madam Brett in the 
year 1760. The house which was built there is still 
standing, and the farm is in possession of his descend- 
ants at the present time. The next settler was Hen- 
drick Kipp. The house he built is still standing. It 
is only one story. In front of the house in the walls 
is a stone bearing date, 1753, marked H. K. Of him 
little is known. Johannes Swart lived there in the 
Revolution, and owned all the land on the south side 
of the road to the Glenham Factory. 

The first settler in Glenham was Simmerton. He 
kept a tavern there, and the first town meeting was 
held there. At a town meeting held at Simmerton's, 



350 EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 

April 7th, 1 724, the following business was transacted : 
"At a meeting of Sundry Freeholders and Tene- 
ments of Dutchess County, assembled this, the first 
Tuesday in April, in the South Ward, at Dutchess 
County, the following persons were chosen by majority 
of votes to serve for the Ward, viz: Jacobus Swart- 
wout. Supervisor; James Hussey, Francis De Lang- 
don, Assessors; Hendrick Phillips, Constable and Col- 
lector ; Isaac Lansing, Surveyor of the King's High- 
ways ; John Barry, do., road about the Fishkills ; 
Daniel Bush, do., for the roads about Foiighkeeacick ; 
Peter DuBois, John ]5uys, Surveyors of fence. It is 
agreed in the South Ward on the day of Election by 
majority of votes, that all fences in that ward are to 
be in height from the ground upward to the upper- 
most part of the rail, or log, or rider, four feet four 
inches, English measure. It is also agreed that the 
hogs in the ward have privilege to run from the first 
day of October till the month of April ; but if said 
hogs so running do any damage to any person or neigh- 
bor, then the owners of the said hogs that have done 
the damage shall yoke them, and if that will not hin- 
der further damage to the person grieved, the owners 
shall keep in his own enclosures ; which if he do not, 
he shall be obliged to pay all damages which have 
been so done by the hogs aforesaid. Further, that 
every inhabitor within the ward aforesaid shall be 
obliged to keep good fences around their corn burrows 
and stacks, which fence is to be close so that hogs nor 
shoats cannot get through the same where they run at 
large, which if neglected shall not recover damage." 
Stormville was originally called Snarling Town, and 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 351 

the Storms were among the first settlers. Three 
brothers, Isaac, Gorus, and Tliomas, came from the 
south part of Westchester, about the year 1740, and 
purchased a large tract of land of Madam Brett, lying 
around Storraville. Most of it is still in possession of 
their descendants. The pioneers in the eastern part of 
the town used to cart their grain to Fishkill Landing. 
The wagons used in those days were clumsily built, 
and the roads were sometimes almost impassable 
through Johnsville and below Fishkill Village. They 
could take cily twenty bushels of corn or wheat at a 
load, and that was drawn by three horses, a lad about 
fifteen years of age mounting the lead horse. They 
consumed the whole day going to and fro. The first 
stopping place was John Wood's. That is where 
Isaac Gildersleeve now lives. The second, Abram 
Brinckerhoff's, now known as Brinckerhoffville. The 
third stopping place was Simmerton's, at Glenham, 
and at the fourth start they drove through to Fishkill 
Landing. From this it would appear that there was 
no store nor hotel kept in Fishkill Village as late as 
the year 1750. 

The first tailor in the town was named Clump. He 
came direct from Holland, and settled at Glenham, 
During busy seasons of the year he would keep his 
shop open most all night. Some of his apprentices 
used to get asleep, and for that offence he used to pun- 
ish them by placing them on a three legged stool, and 
if he got asleep and fell oft^ the stool he received a box 
on the ear. Clump owned some land attached to his 
place, which he cultivated, raising corn and potatoes. 
He had a horse which his apprentices had learned. 



352 EARLY HISTORY OF FISIIKILL. 

when saying "Take care," to rear up on his hind feet. 
One day in the spring he set two of them ploughing a 
small lot to plant potatoes. Clump found fault that 
they did not do their work well, ordering one of his 
apprentices to dismount, and he himself mounted the 
horse. The apprentice that held the plough was 
named Pudney. The field had been lately cleared, 
and a scattering tree here and there was left standing. 
Pudney watching his opportunity, when the horses 
came directly under a large tree, halloed out, "Mr. 
Clump, take care." At that instant the horse reared 
up on his hind feet, throwing Clump up among the 
limbs. His stature was very diminutive, and his per- 
son uncommonly light, and as his horse came down, 
his clothes catching hold of the branches left him sus- 
pended several feet from the earth. Clump shouted 
at the top of his voice, "Help, dunder and blixum, 
help !" Mrs. Clump hearing an unusual noise, looked 
out of the window and saw her husband hanging to 
the branches of the tree. She hastened to the spot, 
and with the help of Pudney, succeeded in disengag- 
ing him from the tree in safety. The circumstance 
afforded great amusement to the bystanders ; his vrow 
at the same time advising him to go in his shop, and 
let the boys do the work of ploughing. Clump in- 
stantly obeyed. 

The following is an extract from a newspaper pub- 
lished at the time to which it refers, July 12th, 1765: 
"We hear from the Fishkills that for a week or two 
past a tiger or panther has been seen in the woods in 
that neighborhood, not far from Mr. Depeyster's liouse. 
It has killed several dogs, torn a cow so that she died 



EARLY HISTORY OF FISHKILL. 353 

the same day, and carried off the calf. It likewise car- 
ried off a colt of about a week old. Eight men with 
their guns went in search of it, and started it at a dis- 
tance. It fled with great swiftness, and has been seen 
since at the Fishkills." 

The first Baptist church in the original town of 
Fishkill was at Gayhead. The precise time when it 
was built is not known. It existed as late as the rev- 
olution, and then they abandoned the ground and built 
a church in Middlebush, which they sold to the Meth- 
odists in 1S26. They then built a church at Fishkill 
Plains. The Baptists now have four churches in the 
two Fishkills. 

The first Methodist church in the original town was 
built at Fishkill Landing in 1824. The building is 
now known as Swift's Hall. They have now eight 
churches in the two towns. 

The first Presbyterian church in the original town 
was built at Brinckerhoffville, in 1750. They have 
now three churches, all in the original town. 

The first Reformed Dutch church in the original 
town was built at Fishkill Village in the year 1731. 
They have now five churches in the two towns. 

The first Episcopal church in the original town was 
built at Fishkill Village about 1770. They have now 
five cliurches in the two towns. 

The reader may probably see some errors in perus- 
ing this history, but it was the best the writer could 
do under existing circumstances. Many of the old rec- 
ords have been mislaid or lost, and the writer has had 
in some instances to follow tradition, which is imper- 
fect at best. He has labored hard, walking on foot, 



354 EARLY HISTORY OF FISIIKILL. 

exposed to heat and cold, to obtain what information 
he could get from the old inhabitants, but it is almost 
too late to get a perfect early history, for many gener- 
ations have passed away since this town was first set- 
tled. The writer has tried to rescue from oblivion, 
history that in a few years more would be irrecovera- 
bly lost. 



HISTORICAL SKETCH OF FISHKILL 



VILLAGE. 



Fishkill Village, in the time of the Revolution, was 
one of the largest villages in Dutchess county. It 
could boast of an academy, two churches, one school 
house, a hotel, and a printing press, and it was the 
theatre of many thrilling incidents, although no battle 
was fought in the vicinity. General Washington, with 
his army, quartered there in 1777, for several months. 
The headquarters of the officers was at the dwelling 
now occupied by Sidney E. Van Wyck, generally 
known by the name of the Wharton House, a fictitious 
name given by Cooper, the novelist. The barracks 
commenced about thirty rods north of this dwelling, 
and extended near the Hne of the road to the base of 
the mountain, where the old road turned east from the 
main road leading to Fishkill Village. 

We will commence at the west end of the village, 
and try to give information as to the names of residen- 
ces at that time. The first house still exists, and is 
now owned by the Southai-d family, whose grandfath- 
er, Zebulon, then resided there, and who purchased his 
farm of Madam Brett in 1760. This farm is the first 



356 SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 

after crossing the creek at the west end of the village. 
The next house east of the creek was the residence 
of John Bailey, great grandfather of the writer, who 
was born about 1704, in the town of Westchester, 
Westchester county, N. Y. He was a builder in early 
life, and took contracts for building mills in New Jer 
sey, and came to Fishkill in 1730 or '31. He pur- 
chased a farm of Madam Brett, containing 214 acres of 
land, and then made farming his occupation. The 
farm is now owned by Charles C. Rogers and William 
M. Baxter. He married Mary, daughter of Johannes 
Terbush, who then lived in Fishkill. Mr. Bailey had 
six children, four sons and two daughters : John, born 
December 4th, 1732 ; Esther, born February 5th, 1735 •, 
Nathan, born June 22d, 1738 ; James, born June 7th, 
1741 ; Ehzabeth, born July 20th, 1743 •, Henry, born 
November 16th, 1745. When my great grandfather 
purchased this farm, the country was new, and tribes 
of Indians yet remained in Fishkill. Wild animals 
abounded in the mountains, wolves howled around his 
dwelling nights, and the beavers had built a dam across 
the small stream that runs through the farm at its 
mouth, where it empties in the large creek. In the 
revolution his children had all married and left home, 
except Nathan, grandfather of the writer, who married 
Abigail, daughter of John Pine, and remained with his 
flither. Nathan had two children, John N., father of 
the writer, born November 11th, 1767 ; Mary, my 
aunt, born December 31st, 1772. In the revolution, 
the family consisted of John Bailey, my great grand- 
father, then about 72 years old ; Nathan, his son, 36 
years old j John N., grandson and father of the writer. 



SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 357 

aged 9 yeurs ; Mary, a grand daughter, aged 3 years ; 
and a number of negro slaves. The house they owned 
and occupied, stood near where William M. Baxter 
now resides, and was built by the great grandfather of 
the writer, soon after he purchased the farm. It fron- 
ted the south, which was the custom of the early pio- 
neers, and the highway was in the rear. This house 
was roofed and sided with cedar shingles, except the 
west end, which was built of stone. It never was 
painted, and some fifteen years ago it was taken down, 
and the present edifice, now owned by WilHam M. 
Baxter, was built. Three years after the battle of Lex- 
ington was fought, in 1778, my ancestors sold this farm 
and removed to Poughkeepsie, and purchased a farm 
near the village, and the fatlier of the writer was sent 
to school in the village. The schoolhouse was located 
in Main street, near the present City Bank, his parents 
living near enough for him to attend school in Pough- 
keepsie on foot. None of the family has lived in Fish- 
kill Village since. 

When the British took possession of New York, in 
the Revolution, many flmiilies left the city and sought 
residences elsewhere, for places of safety. Among the 
number that found a home in Fishkill, was Samuel 
Loudon, a printer, who established a printing press at 
now the residence of Mrs. John C. Van Wyck ; and 
John Bailey, a cutler by trade, who set up his work 
shop not far from the residence of Charles C. Rogers. 
The old shop existed as late as 1820. He made or 
repaired the sword of General Washington, and stamp- 
ed his name on it : "J. Bailey, Fishkill." This Bailey 
was nowise connected with our family. After the 



358 SKETCH OF FISIIKILL VILLAGE. 

British evacuated New York, in 1783, he and Loudon 
returned to their homes in tlie city. 

The next house was on the north side of the street, 
near where the Bryson House now stands. It was 
occupied by a Dutchman, whose name was Tryer. He 
was a tanner by trade, and cairied on the business there. 

The next house east, was the residence of Johannes 
Terbush, which now is owned by Lewis H. White. 
The old Terbush house was taken down by his father, 
Dr. Bartow White, who built the present one about 
the year 1808. 

The next house is the one William Van Wyck owns 
and which is now occupied by a man named Redman. 
AUard Anthony came in possession of this house soon 
after the Revolution. 

The next house was on the north side of the street, 
where John P. Green now resides. Johannes Swart 
lived there, and he had one of the finest residences in 
the village. His house in height was two stories. It 
is said that he kept a store there before the Revolution, 
and a tavern was kept there for some years after. This 
house has been rebuilt several times. Swart had sev- 
eral sons and daughters, and owned a farm where he 
lived. 

The next house east, on the north side of the street, 
was the residence of Stephen Purdy. He married 
Esther Bailey, a daughter of John Bailey, great grand- 
father of the W' riter, who had five children, four sons 
and one daughter: Elizabeth, born September 3d^ 
1758 ; Francis and James, twins, born January 14th, 
17G0 ; John, born August 14th, 1765 ; Stephen, born 
October 10th, 1767. The house was located opposite 



SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 359 

the Bank of Fishkill. It was built of wood, roofed 
and sided with cedar shingles, and was never painted. 
The roof was very steep ; the length of the rafters 
reached two-thirds the width of the building, what 
carpenters used to call a square roof. There was no 
stoop, the front door opening from the yard. This 
house existed until 1835, when it was taken down by 
Nelson Burroughs, who then owned the premises, and 
erected the present building, now owned by Oliver W. 
Barnes. 

The next house was the Union Hotel. Part of the 
hotel then existed, and was kept by James Cooper. 
This hotel was destroyed by fire in December, 1873. 

On the south side of the street from the hotel, form- 
erly lived a Rosacranze, who owned a farm which 
joined Terbusli's, who was one of the first settlers in 
Fishkill, but whether he was there in the Revolution 
is uncertain. 

East of the Union Hotel, on the north side of the 
street, there was only one small house before you 
reached the Dutch church, and was occupied by Abra- 
ham Smith. It is owned by James E. Dean, and has 
been recently taken down. 

Beyond the Dutch church there was but one house 
on that side of the street, until you arrived at the resi- 
dence of Mrs. John Van Wyck. Robert Brett, son of 
Madam Brett, lived there, and owned a large farm, 
containing 650 acres of land. His farm extended east 
to the residence of Henry D. B. Sherwood, and west 
to what is now known as Osborn Hill. The house 
was built of stone, and was demolished by Obadiah 
Bowne, in 1819, who then owned the premises, and 



360 SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 

built the present beautiful structure. Robert Brett 
was a man of eminence, occuping a high position in 
society, and holding offices of trust in the county. The 
first constitutional convention held a session in his 
house, in the autumn of 1776. He gave shelter to the 
printer, Samuel Loudon, and General Washington was 
afterwards a guest in his house. Robert Brett had 
two sons, whose names were Matthew and Robert. 
Matthew died in the morning of life, aged 28 years. 
Robert was the father of James Brett, who resides in 
Fishkill Hook; he died in 1831, at the advanced age 
of 80 years. The highway then was very close so 
Robert Brett's house, and wound around the brow of 
the hill, crossing the creek near Isaac Cotheal's house. 
Capt. Richard Southard lived there then, and owned a 
large farm, extending up the creek, including the farm 
owned by the heirs of Cornelius Burroughs. The old 
house was taken down by Richard Rapalje, who came 
in possession of the farm soon after the Revolution, 
and erected the present house in 1800. Southard had 
six children, four sons and two daughters. 

The next house was the old Van Wyck homestead, 
now owned by Sidney E. Van Wyck, a descendant of 
the family, and was erected by Cornelius Van Wyck 
in 1737. This house was the headquarters of our offi- 
cers while in Fishkill, and it remains much the same, 
although it has been built more than a century and a 
quarter. 

On the opposite side of the street from the Dutch 
church was a school house, and west of the school 
house, on the same side of the street, was a small 
house occupied by Edward Griffin, and then there 



SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 361 

were no more houses until you reached the Rosacranse 
place. 

The Episcopal church was built in 1770, which was 
six years before the Declaration of our Independence. 
The architect who had the supervision of the building 
got so befogged that he and his workmen left before 
they finished framing. It was said that they were 
more or less intemperate. The building committee 
then went to New York, and procured another set of 
mechanics. They had to commence anew and reframe 




EPISCOPAL CHURCH, FISHKILL VILLAGE. 

the building, and it is said the two framings can be 
seen in the upper part of the structure. This church 
was formerly surmounted with a towering steeple, run- 
ning up in four sections, and its height was only three 
feet less than the spire on the present Reformed Dutch 
Church. This steeple was very heavily timbered, and 
a sad accident occurred when it was raised. One of 
the workmen fell from a height of nearly sixty feet, 
striking on a stick of timber, and was instantly killed. 



362 SKETCH OF FISIIKILL VILLAGE. 

The steeple, with the exception of the lower section, 
was taken off in 1810. A complaint was brought 
against the congregation, saying that the steeple was 
not safe ; that it miglit fall and endanger the life of 
some person. The last section was taken off some 



same. 

though the church has stood more than a century. 
The convention of the representatives of the Stattf of 
New York, held a session in this church in the Revolu- 
tion. It was used as a hospital when the army en- 
camped on the flats south of the village, near the 
Highlands. The small pox breaking out in the army, 
the sick were taken to this church. The father of the 
writer was then a lad, ten years old, and he caught 
the small pox when going to see the soldiers in their 
encampment. The board of health waited on his 
father and informed him that he must be taken to the 
hospital. His father prevailed on them to let his son 
remain at home, on account of his being so young. 
The board then informed him that if he would keep 
his son where the disease would not be hkely to spread, 
they would consent for him to remain with his parents. 
This his father promised to do, for the small pox then 
was a terrible scourge, and it was a terror to civilized 
as well as savage nations. It was not until 179S that 
vaccination was discovered by Dr. Jenner. Mr. Bailey 
placed his son in a bedroom, and with the assistance 
of a negro slave whose name was Cassar, who had had 
the small pox, took care of him, and grandfather 
Bailey altered the road that ran close to the house, 
through a woods on the north side, which was some 



SKETCH OF FISIIKILL VILLAGE. 363 

distance oif, for it was said that the disease couid be 
taken from the smoke of a chimney, nearly fifty rods. 
The boy's mother never had had the small pox, and 
she could not see him, and it was thought that he could 
not live. She became almost frantic with grief, when 
grandfather and Caesar made an opening in the bed- 
room door, and placing a window light in the opening, 
then making it perfectly tight, which afforded the 
mother great consolation to look through the window 
and see her son, who, after a very severe sickness, 
recovered. The following spring, in 1778, our family, 
as I have stated above, left Fishkill, and moved to 
Poughkeepsie. 

While the army was encamped at Fishkill, the sol- 
diers would pass the sentinels at night, and commit 
many depredations. They robbed hen roosts for miles 
from their barracks, and every fence rail along the 
highway from Fishkill to Brinckerhoffville they took 
for fuel. Tliey stripped the siding off the old Presby- 
terian church, as high as they could reach, to boil their 
camp kettles. Abram Brinckerhoff kept a store and 
owned a mill. The soldiers would come to his store 
to get something to eat and drink. One night his mill 
caught fire, and mill and contents were all consumed. 
How the fire originated was not known ; it was sup- 
posed it was accidentally fired by the soldiers. Gen- 
eral Washington ordered his officers to send what men 
Mr. Brinckerhoff needed, gratuitously, to help him 
rebuild his mill. A large gang of soldiers were sent, 
and immediately set to work 5 some hauling timber, 
others in hewing and framing, and the mill now occu- 
pied by Alexander Dudley was tlien built. 



364 



SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 



The Reformed Dutch Church in Fishkill, iii tlie rev- 
okition, was built of stone in 1731. In shape it was 
quadrangular, and the roof came up from all sides to 
the center. From the apex of the roof ascended the 
cupola; in that the bell was suspended, and surmount- 
ing the cupola was the bird which veered with the 




REFORMED DUTCH CHURCH, FISHKIIilj VILLAGE. 

wind and told from what quarter of the compass it 
came. The window lights were very small, set in iron 
sash frames, with port holes in the upper story for a 
place of defence against Indian incursions, which the 
settlers were exposed to. In front of the church was 
a large oak tree, whose giant arms extended across the 
street. One large limb came in close proximity to a 
window in the upper story. This church was used as 



SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 365 

a prison in the revolution, and the celebrated spy, Enoch 
Crosby, who figured in Cooper's writings as Harvey 
Burch, was confined there, and tradition says that he 
made his escape on one dark stormy night by leaping 
from an upper window to a limb of this tree. The tree 
was taken down when the present edifice was erected. 
The father of the writer recollected attending church 
there with his parents before they left Fishkill. He 
informed the writer that the pulpit was on the east side 
of the church, and a gallery extended all around. It 
is not definitely known what year the present edifice 
was commenced, for the records of that period of the 
church's history is lost, but from information derived 
from aged residents of the town, it must have been only 
a few years after the revolution. 

An old and highly respectable inhabitant, who was 
born in 1774, and whose death occurred some years 
since, informed me that after peace was proclaimed, a 
great Fourth of July celebration took place in Fishkill, 
and he went with his father to the village on that day 
to witness the celebration. The old church then ex- 
isted. He went into the gallery to hear the oration. 
The church was densely crowded, when the galleries 
began to give way, and a general rush was made for 
the doors. He being small, succeeded in getting out 
very soon ; but no serious accident happened. As near 
as he can recollect, he was then some ten years of age. 
When this church was rebuilt, it was enlarged and 
extended further west on Main street, covering Madam 
Brett's family burying plot, where she and some of her 
children and grandchildren repose — underneath the 
present church. One grave was not disturbed, and 



366 SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 

was where a grandson of hers was buried, 98 years ago, 
and who was a son of Robert Brett. This grave lay 
at the furtherest east end ot the plot, and some twelve 
feet from the present edifice, which was far enough so 
as not to interfere with the building when erected. A 
tower and steeple were added to the church ; the height 
of the spire is 120 feet. When the present church was 
built, the congregation was poor, they having just pass- 
ed through a seven year's war, which had impoverish- 
ed them, and with little or no money, they undertook 
to erect a church, which took some ten years to com- 
plete. 

They had only a few years before separated from the 
church at Poughkeepsie, the latter having abandoned 
their old ground in what is now known as Market 
street, where their first church was built about 1718, 
and commenced building a new church on the opposite 
side of the street, near the Poughkeepsie Hotel, in 1782, 
where the old burying ground is still to be seen. In 
]S22 they abandoned that site, and built a new church 
on the old Glebe property, which belonged to the two 
congregations before they separated. This church was 
destroyed by fire in 1857, when the present edifice was 
erected on the same site. It is one of the finest churches 
in the county. There was a great deal of spirit mani- 
fested between the two congregations, which sliould 
have the finest church. Poughkeepsie had got the 
start of Fishkill, and commenced building in 1782. 
Their church was nearly finished before Fishkill had 
commenced. Their structure was much like the pre- 
sent one at Fishkill, only when Fishkill had completed 
theirs, it was thought to excel Poughkeepsie. The 



SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 367 

church at Fishkill went up slowly ; the walls are three 
feet thick and thirty feet in height, and the timbers 
placed upon the walls that support the roof and tower, 
are of oak, and of such enormous size that it must have 
been attended with a great deal of labor to have placed 
them there, and the building appears as durable now 
as when first finished. The architect's name was 
Barnes, and the boss mason was Manney. Every stick 
of timber, load of stone, hme and sand, was hauled and 
carted on the ground by the congregation, gratuitous- 
ly. Not one cent was paid for carting any of the mate- 
rial that was used in the building. 

There was then no church in the town below the 
village ; all came to church at Fishkill Village, if they 
went anywhere. Much of the wealth of the town was 
there, in this and the Episcopal church. The inhabi- 
tants would come from below Fishkill Landing, south 
as far as Pollipel's Island, to Fishkill, on the Sabbath, 
to attend the Dutch and Episcopal churches. Gener- 
al Swartwout, Abram Brinckerhoft', Christian Dubois, 
and Cornelius C. Van Wyck, w^ere among the number 
that composed the building committee, and whenever 
any timber, stone, lime, sand, or brick, was wanting, 
they promptly responded to the call. General Swart- 
wout bestowed most of his tiine in assisting while the 
church was building, and it was a common saying in 
the neighborhood where he lived, that General Swart- 
wout and all of his hands, have gone again to work at 
the church. It was said that he neglected his farm 
for the interest of the church, and he furnished one 
hand at his own expense all the while the church was 
building. He gave the shingles for the roof The 



368 SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 

timber was mostly obtained from the Highlands, which 
was then of little value, for the country abounded with 
heavy forest. Large trees were taken down, whose 
diameter at their base was three and four feet. The 
congregation turned out in full force, with horses, oxen, 
carts, wagons, negro slaves, and hauled the timber to 
the spot. But their funds gave out before the main 
structure was finished, and it would not do to stop 
building then, and to obtain a loan was almost impos- 
sible, for there was but little money in the country, so 
impoverished was the country after the war. Long 
Island then was an old country, and they concluded to 
try to raise some money there. The building commit- 
tee sent Abram Brinckerhoff there to try to borrow a 
sum sufficient to finish the church, in which he suc- 
ceeded, giving the building committee for security. 
This money completed the church, with the exception 
of the spire, which for the want of funds stood nearly 
three years without covering, and it was not entirely 
completed until 1795, when the spindle, ball and bird 
were placed upon it. There has been no alteration of 
the exterior, except a recess in the rear of the church. 
The interior has been remodelled several times, but 
with little or no improvement. Originally the galler- 
ies were supported from the ceilings, with iron rods 
fastened to the timbers above the arch. Then there 
were no columns in the church to distract the view, 
and the pulpit and side pews were elevated six inches 
above the floor. The first alteration was made in 1806, 
when the iron rods were taken down, the pulpit and 
side pews lowered, and columns placed underneath the 
galleries. The second alteration was made^in 1820, 



SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 369 

when the entrance on Main street was closed, and the 
pews all taken up, and new aisles made, pews lowered, 
and one entrance only, and that in the tower. The 
third and last alteration was in 1854, when the inter- 
ior was entirely remodelled, with new and modern 
pews and pulpit ; the galleries narrowed and lowered, 
and a number of pews added to the audience room, and 
a furnace placed underneath. This church has stood 
more than three quarters of a century, and is as dura- 
ble now as when first completed, and shows no sign of 
es which have been erec- 
there have been but few 
if any that has eclipsed it, and it is now an ornament 
to the village. 

Soon after the Revolution, and before the present 
Reformed Dutch Church was erected, four dwellings 
were built in Fishkill and vicinity. The old Cornelius 
C. Van Wyck mansion, still owned and occupied by 
his descendants ; the house on the opposite side of the 
street from the Episcopal church, which has a gambrel 
roof, owned by Isaac Cotheal, and first occupied as a 
store, kept by Abram Rapalje ; the house known as 
the Baxter house, now owned by John Beecher, part 
of which existed before the Revolution, and when the 
present Reformed Dutch church was building, was 
occupied as a tavern by William Ward ; the house now 
the residence of Leonard B. Horton, built by Doctor 
Hunting, which had a gambrel roof, and was remodel- 
led by Andrew Wight, some twenty-five years ago, 
who then owned the premises. 

Methodism was introduced in Fishkill about 1794 ; 
the first sermon was preached in the street, under a 



370 SKETCH OF FISIIKILL VILLAGE. 

poplar tree near the Baxter house. The preacher, 
whose name was Croft, attracted a large crowd, many 
coming merely out of curiosity ; and the first society 
formed was in Fishkill Hook in 1800. Then costly 
and pewed churches and extravagance in dress, was 
forbidden in their discipline. The ministers wore coats 
with straight collars, and broad-brimmed hats ; the 
women straight bonnets. Their quarterly meetings 
were conducted with closed doors and no one was 
admitted in their love feasts more than two or three 
times, unless they became members. 

Soon after the Revolution, several prominent men 
made Fishkill their permanent residence. Among the 
number was Joseph I. Jackson, a member of the bar, 
and since Judge of Dutchess county ; Dr. Bartow 
White, who came from Westchester county in 1800, 
while a young man, and became eminent in his pro- 
fession •, James Given, who came to Fishkill in 1798, 
and engaged in the mercantile business. He first tried 
to locate near the Episcopal church, which then was 
the most attractive place for business in the village, 
but could not purchase any ground there. He was 
obliged to select a place where the store of Hayt and 
Benjamin is now located. There he built a store in 
1810, and commenced business, and in 1812 he erected 
his dwelling, which is now occupied by his descend- 
ants. The year previous he set out those beautiful 
elm trees in Main street, which now are such an orna- 
ment to the village. Allard Anthony, who in early 
life was a manufacturer of leather, and afterwards en- 
gaged in agriculture. As a citizen and a man, his 
character for truth and integrity was proverbial. Being 



SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 371 

once called on in court to testify, the court did not 
administer the oath to him, being perfectly satisfied 
with his stating what he knew. John Bedford, who 
was a silversmith, and was diligent in business, accu- 
mulated a large estate. Greenleaf Street, who filled 
offices of trust in the town for many years. He was 
one of the vestrymen in the E{)iscopal church in 1796. 
In the Revolution farms within a radius of five miles 
of Fishkill could be bought for £5 per acre. 

The Fourth of July, 1826, which was the fiftieth 
anniversary of our independence, a banner was strung 
across the street from the top of the poplar tree 
where the first Methodist minister preached in Fishkill, 
to the spire of the Reformed Dutch church, and the 
whole surrounding country assembled to celebrate that 
day. A procession was formed at the lower end of 
the village, headed by a body of cavalry dressed in blue 
and scarlet uniform, and followed by the citizens with 
flags and banners. Arriving near the church, the cav- 
alry dismounting, the procession marched into the 
Dutch Church, between a large company of boys, 
from ten to twenty years of age, who lined the street 
on either side for several rods. The writer was one of 
the number, and before the procession got in, the 
church was filled to repletion, the cavalry filling the 
main body. A band of music occupied the whole 
front of the gallery, playing "Hail to the Chief." Rev. 
Doctor Dewitt delivered the oration ; Rev. Doctor 
Westbrook was marshal of the day ; General Swart- 
wout and other Revolutionary worthies, participated 
in the celebration. A splendid dinner was served at 
the two hotels, the Mansion House, which was only 



372 SKETCH OF FISHKILL VILLAGE. 

built one year previous, and was then kept by Major 
Hatch, and the Union Hotel, kept by a Mr. Vail ; the 
cavalry dining at the Union Hotel, and the citizens at 
the Mansion House. 

In 1789, there were but seven post offices in the 
State. Fishkill Village was one of the number. After 
the Revolution, Fishkill progressed very slowly in 
population, and as late as ISIO the village contained 
only two churches and a small collection of houses, 
while Poughkeepsie contained 422 inhabited dwel- 
lings, 49 stores and shops, five churches, an Academy, 
Court House and Jail, two weekly papers, and a pop- 
ulation of 2,981. 

Fishkill Village, at the present time, contains about 

one thousand inhabitants, four churches, a select and 

free school. National and Savings Bank, and a weekly 

' newspaper. The New York, Boston and Montreal 

Railway passes through the village. 



EARLY SETTLERS J^EAR FISHKILL 



LANDING. 



The first settlers at Fishkill Landing, after Peche 
Dewall, who was a squatter, were Koger Brett, the 
Duboises, Pines and Van Voorhises. Roger Brett 
built the first house, known at the present day as the 
Teller mansion, at Matteawan, in 1710. This house 
has had an extension roof and a wing added to it, oth- 
erwise it remains the same. The Duboises settled on 
the south side of the Fishkill creek, near its mouth, 
on the great Highland Patent granted to Adolph Phil- 
lips in 1697. This patent included all of Putnam 
county. The division line of Phillips and Rombout 
was at the mouth of the Fishkill creek, where it emp- 
ties into the river. The Pines located east of Mattea- 
wan, on the Fishkill road. One house is still stand- 
ing, known at the present day as the Birdsell house. 
The other the Pine family sold to Mr. John Boice 
some sixteen years ago, who demohshed it and erected 
the present stately mansion. The Pine that owned 
the Birdsell house sold the farm in 1790, and removed 
to Delaware county. The Verplanck and Newlin 



374 FISHKILL LANDING. 

mansions were also among the first houses erected, and 
are still standing and in good preservation. The Van 
Voorhises located on the Stony Kill road, one mile 
north of the village of Fishkill Landing. The old 
dwelling yet stands, and is located a few rods north of 
the residence of Mr. Wm. Henry Van Voorhis. It is 
only one story, with an open garret and a cellar kitch- 
en beneath. The roof is very steep, and the roof was 
covered with red cedar shingles. John Van Voorhis, 




VERPLANCK HOUSE, FISHKIIili liANDING. 

father of William Henry, was one of the lineal descend- 
ants, and lived there many years. Before it was va- 
cated by him, the writer and his mother were invited 
to pay it a visit, as they had a peculiar interest in its 
history, for grandmother was born in this house, April 
13th, 1744. Mother and soon visited the old house 
for the last time, on the 1st of February, 1842. We 
spent the day examining the ancient landmark. My 



FISHKILL LANDING. 375 

mother pointed out to me the places where she used 
to play when she was a little girl, when she came to 
visit her grandmother. On the mantel piece in the 
parlor were scripture pieces, representing some of the 
miracles our Saviour performed while here on earth. 
Grandfather Peter Dubois married his wife in the old 
house, November 17th, 1768. He was born on what 
is now known as the old Dubois place, near Swart- 
woutville, June 13th, 174G. His father, whose name 
was Christian, was born in Kingston, Ulster county, 
Nov. 15th, 1702, and grandfather Dubois purchased 
the farm of the Beekmans, about the year 1710. The 
farm, when he came on it, was all woods, for the 
country was then a wilderness. He struck the first 
blow with his axe on his farm to fell the trees where 
the house now stands. The house was built of stone, 
and like all of the ancient Dutch houses, had very 
steep roofs and low walls. In 1812 another story, of 
wood, was added to it. This farm remained in the 
Dubois family until 1839, when Coert Dubois, who 
then owned it, sold it to Alfred Storm. It is now 
owned by a Mrs. Sparks. Peter Dubois died the 16th 
of June, 1737. He was buried in the Reformed Dutch 
Churchyard, in Fishkill Village. It was not known 
where his remains laid until recently, when James E. 
Dean, of Fishkill Village, reset and scoured some of 
the old tombstones so that they could be deciphered. 
A tombstone near Main street, all covered with moss, 
was scraped, and this proved to be that of Peter 
Dubois. 

The inscription is in the Dutch language, and is 
as follows : 



376 FISHKILL LANDING. 

"Hier lyde her lighaam, 

Van Pierer D Bois 
Overleeden Den 22' van 
Januarie Anno, 1737-8. 
Oudi Zynde 63, Jaar." 
[tkanslation.] 
''Here lies the body of Peter Du Bois, who departed 
this hfe the 22d day of January, in the year 1737-8, 
aged 63 years." 

A slave, a colored woman, wlio was born in the old 
Van Voorhis house at Fishkill Landing, long before 
the writer's mother, was purchased by my father when 
he married in the Dubois family in 1805. My father 
gave forty pounds for her, when he first commenced 
keeping house. She expressed a great desire to live 
with my mother. The writer well remembers the old 
slave, whose name in Dutch was Nanna, taking him 
on her lap and relating to him incidents which took 
place when she lived in the old Van Voorliis house. 
She told the writer that she had often carried his 
mother, when an infant, in her arms, and when grand- 
mother was married to grandfather Dubois, what a 
wedding they had — how they danced. She informed 
me that when the British fleet came up the river, the 
family, all except her master and herself, left home 
and sought a place of safety in the Great Nine Part- 
ners, at Filkins', who was one of the original purchas- 
ers. Her master declared that he would not leave his 
house; he would lose his life first, for he was a staunch 
Whig; and she said that she would not leave her mas- 
ter, so they two remained at home. When the Brit- 



FISHKILL LANDING. 377 

ish fleet arrived in Newburgh bay, they commenced 
firing their cannon. Their house was secluded from 
the river, but several balls came over the house and 
struck near by; one came very near striking the house* 
Her master told her to go into the cellar kitchen, as 
they might get hurt. They remained there until the 
fleet passed by. 

She said when our army arrived at Fishkill, her 
master was glad to think that they now had protec- 
tion. General Putnam came to Fishkill Landing on 
horseback. Her master took her to Fishkill Village. 
She said that she saw Generals Washington, Lafayette, 
and Staff, and our army encamped on the flats just 
north of the Highlands, near the residence of Sidney 
E. Van Wyck, and on one occasion she assisted in 
making some arrangements at the house of Robert R. 
Brett, now the residence of Mrs. John C. Van Wyck, 
for Washington and his staff", who was then staying 
there. She helped light the candles for them to tran- 
sact business. 

Here it may not be amiss to relate an incident that 
occurred when the writer was a mere lad. Nanna 
was going to Fishkill Landing to visit her son Thomas, 
and she got mother's consent for me to go with her. 
A colored man, whose name was Jack, drove for us. 
We stopped near where James Rogers' harness shop 
is now. The writer thinks that is the identical spot, 
and the store-room the same place they visited Thomas. 
He recollects looking out on the opposite side of the 
street, and seeing but two or three small houses from 
where Snook's saloon is to where the First National 
Bank is now located. The writer recollects Jack tak- 



:}7S FISIIKILI. LANDING. 

ing him by the hand and walking through the street 
towards the river, on the side of tlie street where he 
made his visit, to the Stony Kill road. He recollects 
seeing but two houses. We walked beyond to where 
Baxter & Martin's store is now. He recollects of see- 
ing no bustle, no passing or repassing of sleighs, for it 
was in winter time. Along that street there was a 
small cluster of wooden buildings. He recollects see- 
ing people crossing the river on the ice. Then there 
was no road to Matteawan, except the old Fish kill 
road. 

Nanna could speak the Dutch and English lan- 
guages, and she often told the writer that she regretted 
leaving Fishkill Landing, and at last when freedom 
was proclaimed throughout the State, in 1828, she 
made up her mind to live with her children the remain- 
der of her life. Her son Thomas and daughter Rose 
came to our house to take her home with tliem. My 
parents tried to persuade her to remain with them 
what little time was allotted to her on earth, but the 
boon of freedom was too great for her. When she left 
the house, we all wept, and could it be wondered at 
when she was born and reared in the family, and now 
she was probably beyond three score and ten years, 
for she did not know her age. But Nanna found free- 
dom far different than she expected. The colored peo- 
ple were poor, and there was no fuel in tlie country 
but wood, and that even at that day commanded a 
high price at Fishkill Landing, and she found that the 
fire of freedom did not suffice. She did not find wood 
and provisions as plenty there as she had in the days 
of slavery, and she wished herself back again in the 



FISHKILL LANDING. 379 

old kitchen, a slave under her old master. She went 
out doing house work, but being old she soon gave out 
and returned to her daughter's, sick. The writer's 
mother sent him to her daughter's to enquire after her 
and fetch lier back, bag and baggage, but she was not 
well enough. Finally pinching want began to stare 
her in the face. A colored man was dispatched to in- 
form us of Nanna's destitution, but he was unable to 
find our place of residence, and the next news we 
heard was that Nanna was dead. She died in a little 
house near where the Dutchess Hat Works are now 
located, in 1830. 



A VISIT TO FORT HILL. 



Fort Hill is located in Fishkill Hook, on the farm 
recently owned by Joseph Beecher. It derived its 
name from a tribe of Indians that formerly owned the 
county, known as the Ninham tribe. Their village 
was located in a valley north of the hill where their 
fort was located. This was once a powerful tribe, for 
as late as the year 1700 they numbered more than a 
thousand warriors, and it is but a few years since this 
powerful tribe became extinct. 

They erected a fort on that hill for their defence and 
safety when engaged in war with other tribes, and 
when compelled to retreat they would flee to the fort 
and barricade themselves, and keep the enemy at bay. 
Curiosity induced me to pay a visit to the spot where 
the fort was once located. Accordingly, Mr. Beecher 
and myself set out one day in the year 1861 for that 
purpose. The morning was pleasant, and the clouds 
that appeared in the horizon partially screened us from 
the scorching rays of the July sun, and at ten o'clock 
we had ascended the hill, and stood on the ground 
where the fort was supposed to have been located. It 
was a well chosen spot for defence. On all sides, with 
but one exception, the ascent was very precipitous, and 
that would afford a safe retreat to the mountains. The 



FORT HILL. 381 

Sachem erected his fort on the first elevation of the 
hill, where the ascent was most difficult and danger- 
ous, and here he erected a parapet, and surrounded it 
with palisades for the safe retreat of his tribe. I could 
discover no traces of the ruins, lor the plough had for 
so many years been used by the hand of civilized man, 
in turning up the earth, that every vestige of the ruins 
was obliterated. I looked around and surveyed the 
country. It was a beautiful day, and being elevated 
above the valley of the Hook, the western breezes 
swept rapidly by, and tempered the atmosphere, which 
caused the heat to be less oppressive. The sun had 
arrived at the zenith, and from the spot where I stood 
the view was of surpassing beauty <ind loveliness. The 
harvest was ripe and ready for the sickle, and the far- 
mers had commenced gathering their sheaves in their 
garners. As far as the eye could reach was presented 
fields of grain and grazing pastures, spotted with sheep 
and cattle. Far ahead in the distance I could see the 
Catskill Mountains, whose blue tops rise one above 
another, and stretching beyond the vision's utmost 
limit. Casting my eye back again across the valley, it 
presented one of the most beautiful farming districts 
in the county, inhabited by an intelligent class of far- 
mers. The stately farmhouses that were scattered 
over the valley, the village of Johnsville, with its hun- 
dred chimneys, the snow white church, the heaven 
pointing spire, the stately schoolhouse, surmounted 
with a cupola, added a zest to the enjoyment, and 
heightened the beauty of the surrounding scenery. 

The mansion of H. D. Sherwood was then located a 
short distance from Fort Hill, and his grounds were laid 



382 FORT HILL. 

out with great taste. His artificial ponds, with jets 
of water spouting upward, and filled with gold fish, his 
beautiful lawns interspersed with evergreens and fenc- 
ed with hedges of living green, his fields of grain wav- 
ing their yellow ridges before the wanton breeze, and 
chasing each other like successive generations. But 
what a contrast does the appearance of the country 
present now to that of a century and three quarters 
ago. The great Sachem and his tribe then occupied 
the valleys, and the primitive forests stood in all their 
grandeur, and from Fort Hill then might have been 
witnessed the Indian sporting in the valley, hunting in 
the forest, and fishing in the Wiccapee ; the great 
Sachem at the head of his tribe, teaching them the art 
of war and the amusement of the chase. The howl of 
the wolf and the scream of the panther might then 
have saluted the ear. 

I call up before my imagination the secret windings 
of the scout, the bursts of the war whoop, the fury of 
an Indian onset, the triumphant display of scalps, and 
the horrors of the war dance before the tortured and 
expiring captives. But now the scene has changed. 
Civilization has taken the place of savage life. The 
forests have been leveled, and the valleys have been 
converted into meadows and wheat fields. Instead of 
beasts of prey we see grazing herds; instead of the 
kindling of fagots we witness the worship of God, and 
instead of the appalling war whoop we listen to the 
Songs of David. In the beautiful words of inspira- 
tion, "The wilderness has been made to blossom as 
the rose, and the valley is now vocal with the praises 
of God." 



FORT HILL. 383 

But the time admonislied us to leave, for we had 
lingered on the spot longer than we had anticipated, 
for the history and scenery it afforded us was doubly 
interesting. We descended the hill, and was soon at 
the residence of Mr. Beecher, and I was highly enter- 
tained by himself and lady with a sumptuous repast, 
and then made my way home, greatly pleased with 
what I had seen, and shall ever remember my visit to 
Fort Hill. 



THE BRICK MEETING-HOUSE, 



I have been for several weeks this year, (1874,) 
snugly ensconsed in an isolated farm-house in the town 
of Washington, Dutchess county, N. Y., one mile from 
the village of Millbrook, on the Dutchess and Colum- 
bia railroad. This village has been built since the 
completion of the road. Adjoining this village are the 
villages of Mechanic, Hartsville and Four Corners. 
They lie contiguous to each other, as Fishkill-on-the- 
Hudson and Matteawan, and sooner or later will be 
included in one village. The Reformed Church, in 
the village of Four Corners, is a magnificent structure, 
of Gothic architecture, built of wood, with stained 
glass windows. Over the north entrance the tower 
commences, and surmounting the tower is a spire 
which shoots up to the height of one hundred and 
thirty feet from the earth. A fine-toned bell and clock 
is placed in the upper section of the tower, and the 
sound of the bell and the striking of the clock is dis- 
tinctly heard from my boarding house, distant two 
miles. As you enter the church from the north, an 
aisle crosses to the entrance on the opposite side. 
Intersecting this, two aisles lead the way to the preach- 
er's desk. Behind this is the choir's seat, which faces 
the congregation. The interior of this church appears 



THE BRICK MEETING HOUSE. 385 

at first to tlie stranger, too low and narrow for its 
length. The pews, which are of black w^alnut, are 
elegant, and the church will seat comfortably three 
hundred people, and I am informed that they have a 
large Sabbath school and lecture room. 

Millbrook has two churches, Episcopal and Catholic-, 
Mechanic has two Friends' meeting-houses. Orthodox 
and Hicksite. The town of Washington is on the 
great Nine Partners' patent, purchased in the year 
1.697. This is a beautiful farming country and some 
portions of this town will vie with any in old Dutchess, 
which is saying much. From Millbrook to Washing- 
ton Hollow, a distance of three miles, is a beautiful 
rolhng ridge of land where the mansions of Messrs. 
Brown and Thorne are situated, and the mansion of 
Mr. George H. Brown is not excelled in the State, out- 
side of our large cities. 

Among the early settlers was the Society of Friends, 
who came from Long Island about the middle of the 
last century, and located on the great Nine Partners' 
tract and Beekman's patent. One of their first churches 
in this town was erected at Mechanic, known at the 
present day as the Brick Meeting House. Curiosity 
induced me to attend their meeting, as I had but twice 
in my life entered a Friends' Meeting House. Ac- 
cordingly, on one pleasant Sabbath morning, myself 
and chum, a mere youth of sixteen years, who was 
a member of the family where I boarded, wended our 
way on foot to that venerable edifice. Deviating from 
the main road, we took a by-path which led us to the 
graveyard, which had been the burial place of the 
Society of Friends for more than a century. We 



386 THE BRICK MEETING HOUSE; 

entered the city of the dead, and surveyed the place 
wliere death had so long scattered the discarded relics 
of his ruthless pastime. The silence of the death sleep 
was there. Plans, purposes, toils, and cares were 
ended. I talked to my chum on the brevity of life, 
how that I had recently been shocked on reading in 
the death column of The Fishkill Standard of two 
young men who had died since I left Fishkill, only 
twenty-one years of age. One was of a robust con- 
stitution and his prospect of living to the age of three 
score and ten was as bright as his, and as we stood 
near the burial plot of his ancestors he might in a few 
months or years be lying there beside them. He seem- 
ed to drink in every word that I said, as I reminded 
him of his pious mother ; how often she had urged 
and entreated him to seek the Saviour. As I uttered 
these words he clung to me with greater tenacit}^, as I 
held up to him a crucified Saviour. We then left 
this consecrated spot, and came to the rear of the 
Brick Meeting-House. We clambered over the fence 
in the yard, and our attention was arrested at the long 
rows of sheds which sheltered their horses and vehicles 
during the time of worship, but are now in a dilapida- 
ted state. From appearance a horse had not been 
tied under some of them for a score of years. Large 
forest trees, whose age appeared to reach fiir beyond 
the period when the first white man ever saw the 
great Nine Partners' tract, with staples drove in them, 
rings where horses had been tied, but the earth at 
their base, which had been so often trodden beneath 
the horse's hoofs, was now overgrown with grass ; 
long rows of tie-posts, too, stood along the high board 



THE BRICK MEETING HOUSE. 387 

fence, presenting to my mind the large congregation 
that assembled within those walls a half century ago. 
Two large horse blocks stood in front of the Brick 
Meeting-House. Time had rendered one unserviceable ; 
the other was used, and on it was a sun-dial placed 
there by Jacob Willet sixty years ago. 

Presently a stranger entered the yard and gave us a 
cordial greeting, and we informed him of our object in 
coming here. He seemed pleased to meet us and then 
he offered to conduct us through the building, which 
offer we kindly accepted. We were struck with its 
appearance ; the walls were of brick, two feet or more 
thick ; large windows with heavy sash frames set in 
deep embrasures ; yellow pine floors, fastened to the 
timbers wnth large wrought nails ; box stoves, with 
brick flooring beneath, which had stood there longer 
than our guide could remember ; the same pews and 
unpainted columns which support the galleries have 
not been altered or remodeled since the meeting-house 
was built. A winding stairs led us to the gallery, 
which had not been used for many years, even the 
window shutters in the upper story had not been open- 
ed for years. He opened one of the window shutters 
to give us an opportunity to view the upper part of 
this sanctuary. How gloomy and melancholy was the 
scene presented to us. Here those long rows of empty 
benches which once were thronged with worshippers, 
were now silent as the chamber of death. My mind 
reverted to the time when that yard, on every Sabbath 
morn, contained more than a hundred vehicles, and 
that venerable and ancient edifice was filled to over- 
flowing. We asked our guide when this meeting- 



388 THE BRICK MEETING HOUSE. 

house was built. He led us to the rear wall and poin- 
ted out to us a brick bearing date 1780, almost a cen- 
tuary ago when those walls went up. Time as yet 
had made little or no impression on this building. The 
same windows and shutters, sills and frames, all of 
cypress wood, are in good preservation, and the walls 
appear as durable as when the last brick was laid. 

The congregation is so small that they have aban- 
doned one-half of the first story, and what few wor- 
shippers now assemble, sit on tiie women's side. My- 
self and chum guessed the number that would assemble 
there that morning, which we thought would amount 
to thirty all told. Presently the congregation com- 
menced to gather, and our guide conducted us to a 
seat, and when we were all seated we had only nine- 
teen. The services then commenced, and the stillness 
of death pervaded the whole house. One of our num- 
ber was a little boy, apparently about eight years old, 
and he seemed to know and feel the solemnity of the 
occasion. How still he sat as he watched the solemn 
worshippers, with their broad-brimmed hats on. Some 
twenty minutes or more had passed, when a mother 
in Israel arose and doffed her straight bonnet and com- 
menced speaking. The theme that she presented to 
us was the narrative of the Saviour with the woman 
of Samaria at Jacob's well ; when He was wearied 
with His journey and sat on the well, when she came 
to draw water, and He said to her : "Whosoever 
drinketh of this water shall thirst again, but whosoever 
drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never 
thirst, but the water that I shall give him shall be in 
him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.'^ 



THE BRICK MEETING HOUSE. 389 

How she went to the city and said, "Come and see a 
man which told me all things that ever I did ; is not 
this the Christ ?" So it is with us ; the Saviour knows 
the hearts of all present, and Hke the woman of Sama- 
ria He tells us all, and knows the wants of all, and he 
is ready and willing to give to the uttermost, and if we 
seek we shall surely find Him. We listened with 
intense interest to her pathetic appeals as they fell 
from her lips, until she finished her narrative. The 
same stillness again pervaded our little assembly, and 
the writer thought that this was none other than the 
house of God, the very gate of Heaven. The same 
stillness again pervaded the meeting, when about 12 
o'clock one of the grave members commenced the 
shaking of hands, which was the signal that the ser- 
vices were ended. We then left this hallowed spot 
and returned to our home. 

Attached to this meeting-house was one hundred 
acres of land, which was purchased by the Friends 
before the house was built. In 1794 they erected the 
Nine Partner's boarding school, which was once noted 
for distinguished teachers. Willet, Tabor, and others, 
are fresh in the memory of the historians. After stan- 
ding three quarters of a century, the Friends sold nine- 
ty acres of land, including the Nine Partner's boarding 
school. The purchaser demolished the building, and 
now nothing remains of it but its past history. The 
Friends have now about ten acres of land, including 
the burying ground, and the two meeting houses. The 
Orthodox house is a plain wooden structure, built when 
the Society was torn asunder by dissensions about for- 
ty-five years ago, which it is needless for me to relate 



390 THE BRICK MEETING HOUSE. 

here. The Orthodox has a flourishing congregation 
and Sabbath School. As I have said, the Brick Meet- 
ing House was built in 17S0, when our country was 
struggling for her Independence. In the darkest hours 
of her adversity, the devoted followers of George Fox 
erected this time-honored meeting house. The brick 
and lime were burnt in kilns near-by, and the timber 
was obtained from the forests near where the house 
stands. The past history of the Friends, or Quakers, 
as they are sometimes called, is written in tears of 
blood. Tliey have suffered persecution, imprisonment, 
exile, and death. They were foremost in modifying 
our laws, reforming our prisons, breaking the shackles 
from off the slaves, and forming treaties with the untu- 
tored savages without the effusion of blood. Peace 
and Love have always been inscribed upon her banners, 
which she has carried for more tlian two centuries. 
May she renew her strength, marshaling her hosts with 
her banners streaming, marching onward until our 
swords shall be beaten into plow-shares, our spears 
into pruning hooks, and that banner, emblazoned with 
letters of living light. Peace and Love, encircles the 
whole earth. 

On Sabbath morning, August 9th, I made a second 
visit to the Brick Meeting House, it having been 
announced by posters put up in conspicuous places 
through the village, that a distinguisiied speaker was 
to hold forth there at 4 o'clock on the afternoon of 
that day. It stormed all the morning, and as the day 
progressed the stonii increased, and at noon the rain 
fell in torrents, but suddenly, as if Pie had said, "So 
far shalt thy proud waves come, and no farther," the 



THE BRICK MEETING HOUSE. 391 

rain ceased, the murky clouds that hung as a pall over 
the heavens began to disperse, and by two o'clock the 
sun was shining brightly, and at three o'clock the 
writer was on his way to the Brick Meeting House. 
When I arrived there, the people were assembling ; 
vehicles, carriages and splendid equipages were throng- 
ing the yard. The two entrances in the Meeting 
House were thrown open, the inner doors were hoisted, 
and the two sexes were assigned to their separate 
floors. The writer took his seat as directed, and sat 
anxiously waiting for the distinguished speaker to 
arrive. Presently it was announced that he had come, 
and soon he made his appearance. Passing through 
the aisle, he took a higher seat, where he had a com- 
manding view of the two separate floors. His appear- 
ance commanded respect; his dress, his venerable look 
and snowy locks, with covered head, reminded me of 
the patriarchs. He sat for some minutes in silence, 
when taking ofi' his hat, he arose, and casting his eye 
over the congregation, stood motionless. The scene 
was impressive. Some were dressed in the Friend's 
costume; others again were most elegantly attired. 
The sun shone through the large windows, throwing 
his rays athwart the massive brick walls, when every 
eye was riveted on the speaker. He commenced first 
by alluding to this venerable Meeting House; the 
changes that had taken place there since his remem- 
brance; the fathers and mothers in Israel that had fal- 
len, and then, pointing to the graveyard where their 
ashes lie, he said that he had witnessed the death bed 
scene of many lying there. What bright evidences 
they had given of their faith in God ; how calm ; no 



392 THE BRICK MEETING HOUSE. 

doubts, no fears ; they were joyful, even in the imme- 
diate prospect of death. What a vacuum, he said, 
death had made here. "Who is to fill the places of 
the fathers and mothers that have fallen?" he asked, 
as he looked around upon the assembly. The speaker 
at last came squarely on his owui platform. He held 
up to us his own colors. He said he loved every Chris- 
tian, of whatever name or sect ; he could clasp them 
all in his arms, but the Christian that draws his sword 
to spill his brother's blood he held no fellowship with. 
That was the spirit of Anti-Christ; that no man can 
be a Christian and at tlie same time have malice and 
envy rankhng in the heart. The Saviour used no 
sword; the doctrine he taught while here on earth 
was love, boundless love, and he exhorted all to imi- 
tate his example, to love our neighbor as ourselves and 
to love our enemies; that, he said, was the spirit of 
Christ; this the temper of Heaven. The speaker 
occupied the floor three-quarters of an hour, and then 
resuming his seat, a stillness pervaded the house for 
some minutes, when the shaking of hands commenced 
and the services were ended. 



PINE PLAINS 



Pine Plains was formed from tiie town of Northeast, 
March 26th, 1823. It hes on the northeastern extrem- 
ity of the county of Dutchess, on the Little or Upper 
Nine Partners patent, purchased by Sampson Bough- 
ton and others, April 10th, 1706. The ancient name 
of Pine Plains was Shekomeko, derived from a tribe of 
Indians who inhabited that part of the county when 
first settled by the Europeans. Its present name was 
taken from a dense forest of pines, which originally 
covered the plains where the village is now located. 
The first settlers were Moravians, who established a 
mission among the Indians, in September, 1740. Eben- 
ezer Dibble, C. W. Rauty, James Graham, John Tice, 
Smith and Snider, were also early settlers. In the 
year ISOO, the village of Pine Plains contained only a 
hotel and four or five isolated dwellings. Two are 
still standing, in a dilapidated state. One was occu- 
pied in the revolution by one Lewis, who committed 
suicide. It was said that he was linked in with sev- 
eral others, who had formed a conspiracy against Con- 
gress. A tract of land containing about fourteen hun- 
dred acres near the village, is still owned by the heirs 
of the original proprietors, and are leased to the occu- 
pants. In 1808, some enterprising men commenced 



394 PINE PLAINS. 

improving the village. A large and commodious dwel- 
ling of brick, a store and hotel, were erected by a Mr. 
Dibble, who carried on the mercantile business for 
many years, doing a large trade in barter, buying all 
the grain the surrounding country produced. The 
store is still standing, and is now occupied by Messrs. 
Chase and Dibble, who have recently added twenty 
feet to its length, and otherwise improved the interior 
and exterior. 

The first church, Presbyterian, was built in 1816, as 
a union cliurch, all denominations worshipping in it 
until 1830, when the Presbyterians purchased the rights 
of the other denominations, and they have since had 
sole possession. The church in height is two stories, 
surmounted with a steeple running up in two sections ; 
over the upper section is a vane placed on a spindle. 
A fine toned bell is suspended in the upper section, and 
as often as the blessed Sabbath returns, its sound is 
heard reverberating over the Plains, summoning the 
worshippers to the house of God. The exterior of the 
church remains the same as when first erected, except 
the windows, which recently have had blinds put on 
them, which adds very much to the appearance of the 
church. The interior has been remodeled, with mod- 
ern pews and pulpit, and the aisles carpeted. A gal- 
lery extends all around the church, and is supported 
by heavy columns. Above the gallery are also col- 
umns, which support the roof. An organ has been 
placed in the front gallery. The pastor, Rev. William 
Sayres, was installed in this church in 1833, and for 
thirty-seven consecutive years has preached to this con- 
gregation, and the same ardor and zeal which charac- 



PINE PLAINS. 395 

terized him for more than a third of a century, still 
distinguishes him, and age as yet appears to have made 
no impression. May lie be spared yet for many years 
to labor for Christ and his church, and be instrumen- 
tal in bringing many more to the Saviour. 

Stissing Mountain lies about two miles M^est of the 
village, and its highest summit is some 700 feet above 
the valley. At its base are several ponds, vi'ell stocked 
with fish, and the tourist and men of leisure often spend 
several days here in sailing and catching pickerel and 
fish of different varieties, and I apprehend that the time 
is not far distant when this place will be a fashionable 
retreat for citizens of the great metropolis to spend 
their summer months, for the scenery is not surpassed. 
All that is now wanting, is the accommodations to 
make it a fashionable summer resort. It was the for- 
tune of the writer to spend a few months there in 1870, 
and he was well repaid, for the rural beauty, the vil- 
lage and the surrounding country, the mountains, ponds, 
rivulets, and landscapes, all added a zest to the every 
day scenery. Stissing Mountain is a fashionable resort 
for pic nics and pleasure seekers, and the writer con- 
cluded to pay a visit to its highest summit before leav- 
ing Pine Plains. So on one pleasant morning, in the 
latter part of September, having procured a convey- 
ance, and accompanied by three lads selected from the 
village, he set out to spend the day on Mount Stissing. 
Having provided ourselves with refreshments, we left 
the village about eight o'clock. Our guide drove us 
around to the opposite side of the mountain, saying 
that the ascent was less steep and precipitous. An 
hour's drive brought us to the foot of the mountain, 



396 PINE PLAINS. 

when the road became so rough and uneven that we 
had to leave our conveyance, and perform the rest of 
the journey on foot. Having obtained the best infor- 
mation from our guide how to gain the summit, and 
appointing an hour when he should meet us at the 
same place, he returned to the village. My compan- 
ions and myself then commenced the ascent, and each 
one carrying a portion of the luggage, we proceeded 
up the rough and rugged road. It required consider- 
able effort for us to overcome the steep acclivities, and 
we were obliged to rest before reaching the summit of 
the mountain. Finally we arrived at the top. The 
mountain appears like a huge boulder transported there 
by some convulsion of nature, for it is situated in a 
beautiful valley ; from the top we had a commanding 
view of either side. It was difficult for us to decide 
which view was the most picturesque. Westward lay 
a valley extending to the noble Hudson, a distance of 
some eighteen miles. The glories of a September sun 
painted its dark blue waters with a blue still darker. 
Beyond lie the Catskill mountains, whose blue tops 
rise one above another, stretching beyond the vision's 
utmost limit. The far famed Mountain House could 
be distinctly seen, it being nearly three thousand feet 
above the river. Eastward the view extended to the 
Taghkanic mountain. The village of Pine Plains, and 
the adjacent valleys, afforded a charming prospect. 
The church spires were glittering in the rays of an 
Autumnal sun. The western slope of Taghkanic was 
one of gorgeous splendor, reaching to the fartherest 
limits of the landscape. Farm houses dotted the plains, 
and small streams wound their way through the val- 



PINE PLAINS. 397 

leys like threads of silver. So absorbed was the writer 
in gazing at the scene before him, that his companions 
had retreated unperceived by him to the shades of the 
forest. He set out to regain them, and found them 
lying under a huge pine tree tliat overshadowed them. 
Our appetites now reminded us that it was necessary 
to supply the inner man, and spreading out the con- 
tents of our baskets, we were all soon enjoying our- 
selves in partaking of the dainties which had been pro- 
vided for the occasion. After finishing our repast, we 
spent the remainder of our time in various amusements, 
till the hour arrived for us to leave Mount Stissing, and 
bidding adieu to the place where we had spent a few 
hours so happily, we commenced descending the moun- 
tain, which was easily accomplished, and we reached 
the foot before our conveyance had arrived. But a 
little time elapsed before the ratthng of a vehicle warn- 
ed us our time was up. Soon it came in sight, and 
seizing our luggage, we were ready as soon as it arriv- 
ed. Seating ourselves, our driver was soon wending 
his way to Pine Plains. Taking a circuituous route, 
and passing over an undulating country, we arrived 
home at last, and were warmly greeted by the villagers. 
In 1853 the village of Pine Plains contained twenty- 
four houses, several stores and shops, a post office, etc., 
and the growtli was rapid for several years after, when 
it came to a stand still, and then for many years there 
was little or no imj^rovement, and as late as 1860 the 
village contained only 382 inhabitants. The comple- 
tion of the Dutchess and Columbia Railroad added a 
fresh impetus to the growth of Pine Plains ; a number 
of dwelling houses were in process of erection at the 



398 I'INE PLAINS, 

time of iny visit in JS70. Two buildings by Messrs. 
Euo and Chase are on a magnificent scale, and add 
much to the beauty of the village. Real estate is 
greatly enhancing in value, and new streets are open- 
ing. The village now contains four churches, a union 
free school, two hotels, and about 800 inhabitants. 
Pine Plains is only four hours from New York, via 
the Dutchess and Columbia Railroad, which connects 
with the Hudson River Railroad at Fishkill Landing. 
Trains ari'ive at Pine Plains several times a day from 
the latter })lace. In the next score of years Pine Plains 
may double, if not quadruple, her population. 



ISAAC VAN AMBURGH. 



Isaac Van Amburgh was born at Fishkill Landing, 
May 26th, 1808. His mother's second husband was 
Benjamin Hatchings, who owned and occupied the 
farm now owned and occupied by Isaac M. Knapp, 
situated one mile east of Johnsville, East Fishkill. 
Van Amburgli was but a small lad at the time of the 
marriage, and he then went and resided wdth his step- 
father, who was then a large landholder in Fishkill ; 
under the supervision of his mother and stepfather, he 
was sent to the district school in Johnsville. The old 
school house then stood on the opposite side of the 
street. It was an ancient structure, built in 1794. 
School houses then were built the same as churches 
are at the present day, by voluntary subscription. It 
was not till 1813 that our people passed a law taxing 
the people to support schools, and dividing the State 
into districts. This school house was small, the height 
of the ceiling scarcely admitting a tall man. In the 
west end was a huge stone fire place and chimney, 
and the building was roofed with cedar shingles. The 
floor was laid with oak plank fastened to the sleepers 
with wooden pins, as nails commanded a high price, 
for it was before the invention of cut nails. Tlie cross 
seats were slabs, taken from tlie saw mill, which made 



400 ISAAC VAN AMUURGH. 

them very heavy. In 1810 the old stone chimney and 
fire place were taken out, and an addition made to the 
west end, and a Franklin stove superseded the fire 
place. This was the school house in which Van Am- 
burgh, in company with the writer, received the 
rudiments of education. This old school house was 
demolished in 1847, and the present noble structure 
was erected on the opposite side of the street. 

Van Amburgh was a self-made man. This school 
house was the only one in which he and the writer 
were taught the useful branches of learning. There 
they spent many happy years together. The winter 
of 1827 was very severe, and the snow had fallen very 
deep, and a cold snap was followed by a January 
thaw. The scholars erected a snow fort, and when 
finished, put a flag on it. The school was very large, 
numbering more than fifty scholars, and they divided 
for a ^battle. The larger scholars were commanded 
by Van Amburgh, and the smaller ones by Rowland. 
Rowland's army numbered about five to one of Van 
Amburgh's, and, as the writer was small, he was 
enlisted under Rowland. Rowland's army occupied 
the fort, and Van Amburgh was to take it. The 
teacher, Mr. Graves, had certain rules drawn up, to 
prevent any scholar being hurt. Snow balls were to 
be thrown, and wrestling allowed, and when a scholar 
was thrown, they could wash his face with snow before 
he was permitted to get up. Further violence was 
prohibited. Both parties were eager to commence the 
fight. The day was appointed, and the teacher, Mr. 
Graves, and several other spectators stood on an emi- 
nence where they could overlook the battle. Row- 



ISAAC VAN AMBURGH. 401 

land ordered his men to make a large supply of snow 
balls for the occasion. Van Amburgh's men were 
large and strong, and also well drilled, but Rowland 
depended on numbers. Van Amburgh commenced 
the attack, when Rowland's men threw such a volley 
of snow balls that it was impossible for Van Amburgh's 
men to discern from whence they came, for they were 
completely blinded. Van Amburgh, seeing it was 
useless to contend with such superior numbers, in 
throwing snow balls, ordered his men to make a charge 
on the fort, Van Amburgh himself leading the way. 
As he was very tall, his height even then being nearly 
six feet, and his strength in proportion, he opened his 
way to the fort, followed by his men, scattering Row- 
land's small troops in every direction. Rowland then 
retreated a little way from the fort, and made a stand, 
and ordered some snow balls soaked in muddy water, 
and then attempted to drive Van Amburgh from the 
fort. This proved a failure, as Van Amburgh's men 
were partially shielded inside the fort. Rowland's 
men were the smaller scholars, but numbering five to 
one of Van Amburgh's. He divided them into small 
bands of five each, and gave the name of one of Van 
Amburgh's men to each of his bands to attack. This 
rule was to be strictly adhered to. Rowland then 
ordered an attack on the fort. In the meantime Van 
Amburgh had torn down the flag, and had commenced 
destroying the fort. This stimulated Rowland's men, 
and the five attacked one of Van Amburgh's, and it 
had a good effect. Van Amburgh, seeing his men 
thrown, and as fast as he succeeded in getting one on 
his feet, another was down and calling for help, and 



402 ISAAC VAN AMRURGH. 

the snow continually pouring in their faces, ordered a 
retreat on the hill near the school house, when the 
teacher ordered a cessation of hostilities. The scholars 
were then all called together, and Van Amburgh made 
a speech to his men, saying how nobly they had taken 
the fort, torn down the flag and scaled its walls, and 
he was loudly cheered by both parties. 

Van Araburgli was very fond of such sports, and 
after school hours, instead of going directly home, he 
often would linger around the school house, wrestling 
with some of his school mates, and from his superior 
strength, he was always a match for his competitor. 
He was of a mild disposition, seldom if ever was angry, 
and he won the affection ot both teacher and scholars. 
Sometimes it was necessary for him to remain at home 
a few days to assist his parents. 

Van Amburgh even then manifested a fondness for 
natural history, and he had asked the wi'iter of this for 
books that treated on that subject. He afterward 
became familiar with the works of Buffon and Gold- 
smith, and the perusal of those essays created in him 
a desire for the study of this science. After leaving 
school Van Amburgh went to reside at Fishkill Land- 
ing, tlie place of his nativity, and undertook to learn 
tlie tailor's trade. But his eyes failing him he aban- 
doned it. We next find him in the city of New York, 
engaged in the mercantile business, on the corner of 
Broadway and Bleecker street, with a partner whose 
name was William Hutchings. This copartnership 
was of short duration. He then set up business for 
himself in South street, near the old screw dock. But 
the genius and taste of Van Amburgh was not suited 



ISAAC VAN AMBURGH. 403 

to mercantile life, and he soon gave up the business. 
He then made a tour through the Southern States. 
How long he remained there is not definitely known. 
There now appears to be a vacuum in his life, of which 
we cannot gather any information, It is supposed that 
he applied himself to his favorite study of Natural His- 
tory, until he engaged his services to Raymond & Co., 
who then owned the largest menagerie that, up to that 
time, had ever been collected in Europe or America. 
Van Amburgh soon astonished Raymond and all con- 
nected with the menagerie, with his bold and fearless 
attempt to subdue and tame those wild and ferocious 
animals, the lions and tigers. 

After performing feats which no man heretofore had 
attempted with wild animals, it was announced through 
the press that Van Amburgh would enter the den of 
lions like Daniel of old. A thrill of mingled amaze- 
ment and horror ran through the city, and strong 
appeals were made to the manager from the pulpit and 
the press, imploring him to desist from such an under- 
taking, fraught with such foolhardiness and danger. It 
was idle to convince the masses that he could enter a 
den of wild beasts and leave it unscathed ; but they 
were soon convinced to the contrary, for in the fall of 
1833, at the Richmond Hill theatre, Van Amburgh 
performed a feat with the lions and tigers that, with 
the exception of the prophet Daniel, had baflled the 
skill and sagacity of man in all former ages. Goldsmith 
says that Mark Antony rode through the streets of 
Rome in a chariot drawn by hons. Van Amburgh 
would have performed a greater feat than this, for he 
volunteered to drive through Broadway and the princi- 



404 ISAAC VAN AMBURGH. 

pal streets in the city in a chariot drawn by lions and 
tigers, but the authorities interfered. 

His next appearance was in the Bowery theatre in 
a play entitled the Lion Lord of the first Monarch, in 
which he introduced a royal Bengal tiger, apparently 
loose on the stage. 

Van Amburgh's fame had now spread throughout 
the United States, and many of his old schoolmates 
went to New York to see him enter the den of lions 
and tigers. Among the number was the writer of this 
biography, and he will never forget the impression that 
it produced on his mind in witnessing so sublime and 
fearful a spectacle. Van Amburgh was attired in a 
dress which his own good taste and judgment had 
designed for the occasion. As he approached the door 
of the den of lions a thrill of horror involuntarily 
escaped the audience, but wuth a firm step and una- 
verted eye he opened the door, and went tiirough 
with the programme without manifesting any fear, to 
the astonishment and entire satisfaction of the large 
audience. 

From 1833 to 1838, Van Amburgh performed every 
winter in the old Zoological Institute in the Bowery, 
where there was an extensive menagerie. He now 
contemplated visiting Europe, and accordingly, in the 
summer of 1838, he sailed for England. His fame had 
already preceded him, and his arrival in England had 
produced a great sensation. His first appearance in 
public was at Astley^s, where his success was of an 
unprecedented character. In London he was courted 
by the nobility and gentry, and her royal majesty, Vic- 
toria, of England, extended to him repeated marks of 



ISAAC VAN AMBURGH. 405 

royal patronage and approbation. On one occasion 
the Queen, apprehending that there was something 
taHsmanic in the whip with which Mr. Van Amburgh 
forced the inmates of the den into obedience, requested 
him to lay it before her, when to her utter astonish- 
ment she discovered that it was nothing but a common 
cowhide. 

Afterwards, in partnership with a company of Amer- 
icans with a menagerie, Van Amburgh traveled through 
England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. He then visi- 
ted France, and throughout the length and breadth of 
his travels, Mr. Van Amburgh was the favorite pet of 
the royalty and aristocracy, but he always manifested 
a strong attachment for the free institutions of his own 
country. Nothing could wean him from the love thai;; 
he cherished for his native land, especially the place of 
his birth. 

Returning to the United States in 1845, crowned 
with European applause, Mr. Van Amburgh once more 
presented himself to his countrymen. Uniting himself 
with his former friend, Mr. James A. Raymond, they 
collected the largest menagerie ever exhibited and 
commenced a campaign throughout the Union, and 
wherever they exhibited their large collection of ani- 
mals, the masses collected to witness his entrance into 
the dens of the lions and tigers. 

Van Amburgli now had accumulated a fortune. At 
the age of nineteen, when he left home, he was penni- 
less, and was sent adrift on the world to get his living. 
A kind mother gave him her parting blessing when he 
left the maternal roof, and many prayers had she 
offered up for the welfare of her son. A kind Provi- 



406 ISAAC VAN AMBURGH. 

dence watched over him, and that mother Hved to see 
her son reach the top of the ladder of fame. 

Van Amburgh afterward made several temporary- 
visits in Europe, and traveled more or less in his 
own country. Tlie last time the writer had an inter- 
view with him was in 1848, when he traveled through 
Fishkill with his menagerie. Nearly the whole two 
Fish kills were present to see him, for it was said that 
it would be his last visit to his native place, except as 
a private citizen. The writer saw him enter the cages 
of the lions and tigers for the last time, and with what 
thrilling interest did the large audience witness the 
wonderful control he had over those ferocious beasts 
of the forests. In conversation witli him my mind 
reverted to the scenes of our childhood, when we went 
to school together. All those ties that united us to- 
gether in by-gone days came up before me in vivid 
recollections. I saw at a glance that he had not devi- 
ated from the path of virtue, and had shunned the 
intoxicating bowl. His appearance was noble •, his 
height rather more than six feet. Age had made no 
impression on that powerful frame. I felt myself in 
the presence of more than an ordinary man. 

Van Amburgh has no brothers living. An only sis- 
ter survives him, living at Gayhead, East Fishkill. He 
died November 29th, 18G5, at Philadelpiiia, aged 57 
years, six months and three days. He had selected 
Newburgh for his last resting place, and there his 
remains were interred. 



i 



^BH|1 



#llglp. 



CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE 



CONTRASTED, 



When the Almighty created man, he said, " Let us 
make man in our own image, after our likeness," and 
he created him thus, and placed him in the garden of 
Eden, and there he was sinless and happy until he ate 
of the forbidden fruit. The Lord then drove him from 
the garden and commanded him to earn his bread by 
the sweat of his brow. But he did not curse him with 
savage life, for he knew that it would afford him no 
happiness. After this man became very wicked, and 
it repented the Lord that he had made man on the 
earth. And the Lord said, "I will destroy man whom 
I have created, from the face of the earth," except 
Noah and his family, whom he preserved in a certain 
ark or vessel, with such kind of living creatures as he 
took with him. The ark was built of gopher wood, 



410 CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 

probably what we call the cypress, a strong and dura- 
ble wood, not easily subject to rottenness. And this 
naturally leads us to think that it was built in Chaldea, 
where vast quantities of cypress wood was found as 
late as the time of Alexander the Great. The earth 
was made sixteen hundred and fifty-six years before 
the flood, and some historians assert that it was as 
densely populated then as at the present day. This to 
me appears reasonable, for man then lived centuries, 
and sixteen hundred and fifty-six years now would 
carry us back almost to the commencement of the 
Christian era, a sufficient time to elapse to populate 
the earth. Large cities probably then existed, mighty 
empires flourished, all since sunk to oblivion. 

The ark was 547 feet in length, 131 feet shorter 
than the Great Eastern, but its tonnage was much 
<rreater, being 81,000 tons, while that of the Great 
Eastern is 22,500. The height of the ceiling of the 
ark was eighteen feet ; that of the Great Eastern thir- 
teen feet eight inches. The ark consisted of three 
stories, and the extreme height was about 55 feet, suf- 
ficiently large for Noah and his family, and the ammals 
and winged fowls and their provisions for a year. The 
ark rested on Ararat. It is the finger mountain near 
the northeast of Armenia, and it is visible nearly two 
hundred miles distant. The height is so great, and the 
snow which covers it so deep, that its top is inaccessi- 
ble. Infidels object to the general deluge by saying 
that if Noah was buoyed up on the water over the tops 
of the highest mountains he must inevitably have per- 
ished, for the cold would be intense. I suppose that 
the water tempered the atmosphere and made the cli- 



CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 411 

mate more genial. Some philosophers assert that when 
the earth was created, it was tropical from pole to pole ; 
that flowers bloomed perennial in what geographers 
DOW call the frigid zone ; that as late as the Christian 
era the elephant existed as far north as our latitude. 
Some again assert that the flood was limited to a cer- 
tain part of Asia, that the Western Hemisphere, or 
that portion of the globe, was saved. The Western 
Hemisphere probably in ancient times was covered 
with water, and those immense steppes or prairies now 
existing in the Western States were covered witli 
water, and the Atlantic and Pacific oceans were united, 
and the bridge of islands that now exist in the Pacific 
ocean extended to the Atlantic, which now are the tops 
of the highest mountains extending throughout our 
continent. 

When Noali came forth from the ark, he settled in 
Mesopotamia, and before his death he divided the world 
among his three sons, giving to Shem Asia, to Ham 
Africa, and to Japheth Europe. The descendants of 
Shem settled from Media westward to the sea coast of 
Aram or Syria. His sons were Elan), Ashur, Arphax- 
ad, Lud and Aram. Elam possessed the country now 
called Persia. From him it had the name of Elymae 
and Elymais. Ashur settled on the west or northwest 
of Elam in Assyria, called likewise after him Ashur, at 
present Curdistan. Arphaxad peopled Chaldea. Lud 
is supposed to have wandered as far as Lydia. Aram 
and his descendants inhabited Armenia, Mesopotamia, 
and Syria. From his son Uz, a tract about Damascus, 
the stony and desert Arabia, was called the land of Uz. 
Ham, the second son of Noah, removed into Egypt, 



412 CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 

which in Scripture is often caUed the land of Ham 
The sons of Ham were Gush, Mizraim, Canaan and 
Phut Cush, his eldest son, possessed Arabia. Miz- 
raim and his descendants inhabited Ethiopia, Lybia, 
E-ypt and the neighboring countries. Canaan and 
his posterity settled in Phoenecia, and the land ot Can- 
aan, lying on the east and southeast of the Mediterra- 
nean sea. This was the land afterwards promised to 
Abraham, which he and his posterity accordingly 
enioyed, and was then the land of Israel and Judah 
Phut, the youngest son of Ham, planted himself in the 
western parts of Africa, on the Mediterranean, in the 
country of Mauritania, whence this country was called 
the region of Phut, in St. Jerome's time. The Scrip- 
tures leave us very much in the dark as to the country 
where Japheth, the eldest son of Noah, settled All 
we can collect respecting him is, that he retired with 
his descendants to the north of the countries planted 
by the children of Ham. His sons were Gomar, 
Magog, Modi, Javan, Tubal, Meshech and Tivas 
Gomar, the eldest son of Japheth, was the father of 
the Gomorites, called by the Greeks Gallatins who 
were the Gauls of Asia Minor, inhabiting part of Phry- 
cria The families of Gomar soon grew very numerous, 
and sent colonies into several parts of Europe. They 
first settled at the lake Boestris, and so gave the name 
ofBosphorus Cimmerius to the strait between it and 
the Euxine sea. These, in time, spreading by new 
colonies along the Danube, settled in Germany, whose 
ancient inhabitants were the Cimbri, so called of the 
Cymmerians. From Germany they afterward spread 
themselves into Gaul, where they were originally called 



CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 413 

Gomerites, then by the Greeks Galutae, and at last 
Gauls. From the colonies of Gaul, or Germany, came 
the first inhabitants of Great Britain. 

From the information we gather from Biblical his- 
tory, Great Britain was first peopled by Gomer, the 
son of Japheth, grandson of Noah, probably about two 
thousand years before the Christian era. Rome then 
was the place where man had made the greatest pro- 
gress in civilization and learning. She had her orators, 
statesmen, heroes, poets and sages, and she was then 
the mistress of the world, occupying all of the impor- 
tant parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa. Her imperial 
city contained four milHons of inhabitants. Her vic- 
torious armies had overrun Gallia, and Julius Caesar, 
willing still further to extend his fame, determined 
upon the conquest of Britain. When the troops des- 
tined for the expedition were embarked, he set sail 
about midnight, and the next morning he arrived on 
the coast near Dover, where he saw the rocks and 
cliffs covered with armed men to oppose his landing. 
After several hard fought battles, the Romans were 
victorious, but what was the condition of the Britons 
when they were first known to the civilized world ! 
What description does Caesar give of the inhabitants. 
He says that they were in a savage state, and living in 
cottages thatched with straw, with their cattle. They 
lived mostly on milk or flesh procured by the chase. 
What clothes they wore to cover any part of their 
bodies were usually the skins of beasts, but much of 
their bodies, as the arms, legs, and thighs, were left 
naked, and those parts were usually painted blue. 
Their hair, wiiich was long, flowed down upon their 



414 CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 

backs and shoulders, while their beards were kept 
close shaven, except upon the upper lip, where it was 
suffered to grow. The dress of savage nations is every- 
where pretty much the same, being calculated rather 
to inspire terror than to excite love or respect. Their 
religious superstitions were terrible. Besides the se- 
vere penalties which they were permitted to inflict in 
this world, they inculcated the eternal transmigration 
of souls, and thus extended their authority as far as 
the fears of their votaries. They sacrificed human vic- 
tims, which they burned in large wicker idols made so 
capacious as to contain a multitude of persons at once, 
who were thus consumed together. To these sights, 
tending to impress ignorance with awe, they added 
the austerity of their manners and the simplicity of 
their lives. They lived in woods, caves, and hollow 
trees. Their food was acorns and berries, and their 
drink water. This was the condition of the Briton at 
the time the island was invaded by the Romans. They 
introduced civilization there, and from that time sav- 
age life gradually declined, and as early as the invasion 
of the Danes, Britain could boast of learned men. Her 
learned Alfred, who flourished at that time, cultivated 
both learning and the Muses, when barbarism and 
ignorance overspread the rest of Europe. 

Learning and civilization had progressed so far as 
early as the reign of Henry H, that the use of glass in 
windows, and stone arches for building, were mtro- 
duced, and in the reign of King John the famous 
Magna Charta was framed, the very bulwark of En- 
glish liberty. Nor must we omit to mention Roger 
Bacon, who flourished in the dark ages, and was the 



CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 415 

forerunner in science to the great Bacon, Lord Verulan, 
as the latter was to Sir Isaac Newton. Among the 
other curious works written by this illustrious man, 
we find a treatise upon grammar, mathematics, phys- 
ics, the flux and reflux of the British sea, optics, 
geography, astronomy, chemistry, logic, metaphysics, 
ethics, medicine, theology, philosophy, and upon the 
impediments of knowledge. He lived under Henry 
III, and died at Oxford about the year 1294. The 
industrious Leiand, who was himself a moving library, 
was the first who published a short collection of the 
lives and characters of those learned persons who pre- 
ceded the reign of Henry VIII. Edward IV, during 
his short life, did a great deal for the encouragement 
of learning, and encouragement was given to learned 
foreigners to settle in England. The Liturgy of the 
Episcopal church was composed in this reign, and 
with the exception of two articles, is the same the 
church uses at the present day. Learning as well as 
liberty suffered an almost total eclipse in England dur- 
ing the bigoted bloody reign of Queen Mary, but it 
revived again in the reign of Elizabeth. Although she 
was so dictated to by her ministers, as to suffer the 
poet to languish to death in obscurity, she was no 
stranger to Spencer's Muse. She tasted the beauties 
of the divine Shakespeare, and raised genius from 
obscurity. During her long and peaceful reign knowl- 
edge shone with effldgent brightness. Sir Walter 
Raleigh, Sir Francis Drake, and the Earl of Essex, the 
politest scholar of his age, flourished in her reign. 
Her successor, James I, son of Mary, Queen of Scots, 
gave encouragement for learned foreigners to reside in 



416 CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 

England. He was himself no great author, but his 
example had a considerable effect upon his subjects, 
for in his reign were found those great masters of 
polemic divinity whose works are almost inexhaustible 
mines of knowledge. He was likewise the patron of 
Camden and other historians, as well as antiquaries, 
whose works are to this day standards in those studies. 
What was most noted in his reign was the translation 
of the Bible from the original tongue by the learned 
men, and is the same used at the present day. His 
son, Charles I, had great taste for the polite arts, espec- 
ially sculpture, painting, and architecture. He was 
the patron of Reubens, Vandyck, Jones, and other 
eminent artists, so that had it not been for the civil 
wars, he would probably have converted his capital 
into a second Athens. The Earl of Arundel was, 
however, the great Maecenas of the age, and by the 
immense acquisitions he made of antiquities, especially 
his famous marble inscriptions, he may stand upon a 
footing as to the encouragement and utility of litera- 
ture with the greatest of Medicean princes. The dis- 
tinguished Milton, and poet laureate, also flourished in 
his reign. The public encouragement of learning and 
the arts suffered indeed an eclipse during the times of 
the civil wars, and the succeeding interregnum. Many 
very learned men, however, found their situation under 
Cromwell, though he was a stranger to their political 
sentiments, so easy that they followed their studies to 
the vast benefit of every branch of learning, and many 
works of vast literary merit appeared even in those 
times of distraction. Usher, Walton, Wallis, Harring- 
ton, Wilkins, and a number of other great names were 



CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 417 

unmolested, and even favored by that usurper. The 
reign of Charles II was chiefly distinguished by the 
great proficiency to which he carried natural know- 
ledge, especially by the institution of the Royal Society. 
The king was a good judge of those studies, and though 
irreligious himself, England never abounded more with 
learned and able divines than in his reign. His reign, 
notwithstanding the bad taste of his court in several 
of the polite arts, by some is reckoned the Augustan 
age in England, and is distinguished with the names 
of Boyle, Halley, Hooke, Sydenham, Harvey, Temple, 
Tillotson, Barrow, Butler, Cowley, Waller, Dryden, 
Wyckerly and Otway. Classic literature recovered 
many of its native graces, and though England under 
him could not boast of a James and a Vandyck, yet 
Christopher Wren introduced a more general regulari- 
ty than had ever been known before in architecture. 
St. Paul's cathedral was built by him, which was thir- 
ty-seven consecutive years in building. He lived to 
see it finished after himself had laid the corner stone. 
The reign of James I, though he likewise had a 
taste for the fine arts, is chiefly distinguished in the 
province of literature by the compositions that were 
published by the Enghsh divines against popery, and 
which for strength of reasoning and depth of erudition 
never were equalled in any age or country. The names 
of Newton and Locke adorn the reign of Wilham III, 
and he had a particular esteem for the latter. Learn- 
ing, says the historian, flourished in his reign merely 
by the excellency of the soil in which it was planted. 
The improvement which learning and all of the polite 
arts received under the auspices of Queen Anne, put 



418 CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 

his court at least on a footing with that of Louis XIV, 
in its glorious and palmy days. Many of the great 
men who had figured in the reigns of the Stuarts and 
William, were still alive and in full service of their 
faculties, while a new race sprung up in the republic 
of learning and the arts. Addison, Prior, Pope, Lord 
Bolingbrook, Lord Shaftsbury, Arbuthnot, Congreve, 
Steele, Rowe, and many excellent writers, both in 
verse and prose, need but to be mentioned to be admir- 
ed, and the English were as triumphant in literature 
as in war. The learned ministers of George I, were 
patrons of erudition, and some of them were no mean 
proficients themselves. Although George II was him- 
self no Maecenas, yet his reign yielded to none of the 
preceding in the numbers of learned and ingenious men 
that it produced. In the reign of George III the 
great Earl of Chatham made the United Kingdom ring 
with his eloquence. In the reigns of William IV 
and Queen Victoria, there are Sir Robert Peel, Sir 
Walter Scott, Lord Palmerston, Lord John Russell, 
Chalmers, and W^hiteside. 

From what we have collected from history, we learn 
that it was civilization that roused England from her 
lethargy and barbarism, where she had been slumber- 
ing for the long lapse of ages. It was civilization that 
enabled her to arise upon the wings of destiny, and 
throw her future glories and splendors around her. It 
was civilization that enabled her to spread her com- 
merce over the fliirest portions of the globe, from the 
east to the west, from the Arctic ocean of the north to 
the great southern ocean. She has sent her couriers 
over the bounding seas, and every gale of the ocean 



CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 419 

has laughed through the cordage of her laden ships. 
England for the last several centuries has spread her 
conquests over all North America, conquered part of 
the Eastern world, and given birth to some of the great- 
est men that have existed in modern days. There was 
a Fox, a Pit, a Sheridan, and others whose fame and 
glory shone through Europe, like a meteor that bursts 
and sheds its blaze throughout the heavens. As far 
back as the commencement of the reign of the Tudors 
she has not been wanting for a succession of learned 
men to gild the pages of her history. Even down 
to this day her lustre is undiminished, and she still 
remains the guiding star for history to emblazon. But 
contrast her happiness now to her misery eighteen hun- 
dred years ago. Then her inhabitants were immersed 
in all the horrors of savage life, hving in huts with 
their cattle, clothed with the skins of beasts, and sacri- 
ficing human victims to their gods. Their religious 
superstitions alone were enough to blacken the pages 
of history, and make the heart of the philanthropist 
bleed. 

Thus I have reviewed English history, and traced 
that nation from savage to civilized life. And I have 
done this to show that savage life does not afford any 
happiness, but on the contrary it adds infinitely to the 
weight of man's calamities. It has filled ancient Brit- 
ain with tears, and clothed barbarous nations in mourn- 
ing ; it has brought upon the savage race the wrath 
and curse of Heaven. It may be asked is there no 
remedy for this degradation of savage life. Is there no 
way in which truth, reason and mercy can rear a sup- 
erstructure that will suppress it. I answer yes. That 



420 



CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE. 



superstructure is civilization and religion. Let the 
gospel of Jesus be preached throughout tlie world, and 
let the waste places in Zion be built up, let the mis- 
sionary of the cross of Christ proclaim the glad tidings 
of salvation to a guilty dying world, then savage life 
will become totally annihilated, and civilization wave 
her white banner throughout the earth. 




BOOKS THE GREAT SOURCE OF 



INFORMATION 



It is through the information of books that we can 
learn what has happened in all ages of the world. It 
is through books that we learn what a great Empire 
the Assyrian was, founded by Nimrod, that mighty 
hunter, wliich increased in splendor for the long peri- 
od of fifteen centuries, spreading itself over the fairest 
portions of the globe, and at length overturned and 
subdued by the immortal Cyrus. And there was the 
Persian Empire, shining hke a meteor for nearly two 
centuries, swayed by the scepter of Cyrus, conquering 
the surrounding nations, and adding strength to its 
greatness, and at length totally subjugated under Darius 
their last king, in the memorable battle on the Grani- 
cus at Issus, on the plains of Arbela, by the all-con- 
quering arm of Alexander. View next tiie Grecian 
P^mpire, brilliant but brief, existing but a few years in 
a blaze of glory, and terminating with its hero in an 
ignoble death, and dividing itself into several king- 
doms, stretching their petty scepters over the disjoint- 
ed parts of the continent. View next the Roman 



422 BOOKS. 

Eagle, wheeling its victorious flight over the fertile 
plains of Asia, the burning sands of Africa, and the 
genial soil of Europe, conquering Cartliage and Britain, 
and giving laws to the then known world. It existed 
under a republican government for nearly five centur- 
ies, and gave birth to some of the greatest writers, 
poets, statesmen, heroes and sages, that have existed 
at any period of the world. View the imperial city, 
spreading itself over seven hills, and at the birth of 
Christ containing over four millions of inhabitants. 
But view its decline. Headed at last by an ambitious 
set of demagogues, such as Cato, Cataline, Nero and 
others, it falls. The imperial city is sacked and pil- 
laged, and overturned by successive hordes of fierce 
barbarians, and in the fourth and fifth centuries after 
Christ, the semi-savages from tiie nortli, the Saracenes 
from the east, the Gotiis and Vandals from the west, 
complete its destruction. To this deplorable state suc- 
ceeded the dark ages of the world. It is through the 
information of books, that blessed book the Bible, that 
we learn of the dispensation of a cloud of ignorance, 
througli the herald of the cross sent over that dark 
benighted land. 

After England was converted to Christianity, she 
arose as upon the wings of destiny, and became one of 
the greatest nations on the globe, and since the Refor- 
mation she has spread her conquests over all North 
America, conquered a major part of the eastern world, 
and given birth to some of the greatest men that have 
existed in niodern days. 

Again, it is book information that has raised individ- 
uals to the very pinnacle of greatness. It was book 



BOOKS. 423 

information that enabled Wesley to be the founder of 
a sect which has since spread itself over the civilized 
globe. It was book information that enabled the Earl 
of Chatham to be England's greatest statesman and 
orator, and Goldsmith to be one of the ablest historians 
that ever existed. Book information then is power. 
It is the scepter that gives us dominion over nature. 
It is the key which unlocks the storehouse of creation, 
and opens to us the treasures of the universe. 

Take for example the man that has no book infor- 
mation. Can he gain any information on a tour 
through the old world ? No. Let him travel through 
those oriental countries, let him wander if you please 
over the hills of Greece, and everything that presents 
itself to his eye is of a dreary aspect, bounded on one 
side by sterile hills, and on the other lashed by the 
etemal waves of the Jigean sea. Let him look over 
Egypt and lie will see nothing but the ruins of ancient 
cities and temples. He can get no information of the 
ancient beauty, grandeur and magnificence of those 
countries. The information he will impart on his 
return, will be cold and uninteresting. It is only the 
man of book information that can learn the rise and 
fall of those nations and cities, that can rake up their 
mouldering ashes, that can collect and gather together 
their scattered fragments as they rot, and hand thern 
down through books from generation to generation. 



SLEEP 



How refreshing is sleep to one who has been toiling 
through the day, and burdened with its cares. To 
such a one sleep is a happy period, when the business 
of the day can be dismissed from the mind and forgot- 
ten, when we are conscious of having done nothing 
the world refuses to overlook or forget, to such a one 
sleep is one of the most happy periods of hishfe. Sleep 
is something with which we cannot dispense, for every- 
thing that exists, all animal creation, must sleep; and 
man, the noblest being that God has created, has been 
obliged to sleep when he knew that danger was threat- 
ening him. Alexander slept on the plains of Arbela 
just before the decisive battle was fought. Hannibal 
slept while his destiny was shaping, while disputing 
with the armies of the "mistress of the world ;" and 
Bonaparte slept on the battle field of Austcrlitz. 
Charles I. slept on the niglit before his execution, when 
the noise of the workmen engaged in erecting his scaf- 
fold was ringing through his cell, and Marie Antoinette, 
when under sentence of death, was aroused from her 
slumbers and led to the guillotine. Sentinels have 
slept at their posts, and soldiers on forced marches, and 
so essential is sleep to man, tliat under the most trying 
circumstances he cannot long exist without it. The 



SLEEP. 425 

mother that manifests the tenderest affection for her 
child in sickness, when she sits beside the dying couch 
witnessing the intense suffering it must endure, must 
sleep, perhaps, when her darling is in the agonies of 
death ; for her powers of mind and body are exhaust- 
ed, and she sits unconscious until aroused to witness 
the departure of her child. 

Our beneficent Father has so beautifully arranged 
the time for sleep, separating the light from the dark- 
ness, giving man all necessary time for sleep to restore 
exhausted nature, so as to enable him to bear the heat 
and burden of the day through the short pilgrimage of 
his earthly existence. But alas ! how many there are 
at the present day, especially among the young, whose 
time for sleep is so limited that life to them gets to be 
a burden. Sauntering night after night in those dens 
of iniquity that infest our cities and villages, spending 
their time and money, immersed in dissipation till their 
wretched existence is terminated with a horrible death. 
Happy they who have retired to rest when exhausted 
nature demanded, and have had sufficient sleep in order 
that they may transact the business of life with the 
strictest exactness, when called to give an account of 
their stewardship here below, they can say with the 
Apostle Paul, "For if ye believe that Jesus died and 
rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will 
God bring with him." 



ADVERSITY 



Adversity overtakes almost every man at some peri- 
od of his life. It often comes at a time when he is 
most prosperous, vehen everything he had undertaken 
has added to his wealth. It then thwarts his plans, 
and strips him of his property, which has cost him 
years of anxiety and toil. The Christian also has 
experienced the severe trials of adversity. Often has 
his cup of sorrow been full to overflowing, and he has 
been compelled to drink from the very bottom of that 
cup, the bitter dregs of trouble. This was strikingly 
illustrated in the case of Job ; when his children and 
property were taken from him he murmured not, but 
cheerfully submitted to the will of Providence, and 
submissively said, "Naked came I out of my mother's 
womb, and naked shall I return thither. The Lord 
gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the 
name of the Lord." The worldling that has been 
prosperous for years, that never as yet tasted of the 
bitter disappointments of adversity, how forgetful is he 
of the maxims tliat have been taught him ; and when 
adverse winds begin to howl around him, when his 
earthly props are knocked from under him, how 
unwilling is he to submit to the will of Providence. 
How apt is he to find fault with that great and good 



ADVERSITY. 427 

being that has watched over him from his earliest years 
to the present time. Misfortunes may have overtaken 
him, friends may have deserted him, and his heart is 
now bleeding with anguish, yet there is a sovereign 
balm that can heal those wounds which adversity has 
thus inflicted. If he would but flee to the Saviour for 
refuge, the shafts of adversity would point in vain 
against him. This was the case with the Psalmist, who 
when afflicted, said, "It is good for me that I have 
been afflicted. Before I was afflicted I went astray, 
but now have I kept thy word." The Christian that 
believes that an unseen hand rules his destiny, is patient 
in adversity, thankful in prosperity, and in all things 
which may befall him, will place his trust in his faith- 
ful God and Father, and when times look dark and 
threatening, when the enemy rushes in like a flood, 
what comfort would he have if he did not believe that 
God rules, sustains, and governs all things. It calms 
the perturbation of his mind and enables him with a 
peaceful resignation to say, "Not my will, but thine, 
O Lord, be done." Through all of the vicissitudes of 
this life, his faith remains firm and unshaken as the 
ponderous rock. The warm zephyrs of prosperity 
breath meltingly upon him, the rough storms of adver- 
sity descend, the heaving billows of affliction dash, but 
nothing can move him. His eye is fixed on God, and 
his hope is in that glory that fadeth not away. These 
comfort and support him. 



FASHION 



How prevalent is the force of fashion, and to what 
excesses of extravagance has it led, as may be witnessed 
at the present day. It pervades all ranks of society, 
the poor as well as the rich, and the influence it exerts 
over the masses is truly appalling. It causes those 
in affluence to live beyond their means, while those in 
poverty are made to suffer the effects of still more 
abject penury in order to make an outward display. 
Intemperance is justly styled a mighty evil, and the 
philanthropist has long sought means for the recovery 
of tlie poor inebi'iate, while the orator has portrayed 
in vivid colors his career from the first glass to the 
lowest depths of miserable degredation. Half a cen- 
tury ago, when intemperance was at its height, it was 
not tolerated in the church of Christ, and if a member 
of any Christian church became intoxicated he was 
expelled and disieputed; but not so with fashion at 
the pi'esent day. The clergy, even, and the members 
that compose the church, rather lead the van, and it is 
to church that we may go to see the fashions of the 
day. There we may witness the fine equipage, the 
full display of dress and the proud show of gewgaws. 
Every religious society, except perhaps the Quakers, 
is contaminated with the lust of fashion, which they 



FASHION. 



429 



allow to pollute their sanctuaries. How melancholy 
it is to see a society like theirs on the decline, merely 
because they will not yield to its corrupting influences. 
Fashion at the present day is a greater evil than was 
slavery at the South, and it travels over the country 
with more than railroad speed, while to the rising gen- 
eration it is as destructive as death itself. It begets 
habits of indolence and extravagance in youth, and 
what property they may have inherited is soon wasted, 
when having no habits of industry, they soon become 
poor dependents and here their career of infamy begins. 
How often have the fashionable youths of wealthy 
parents been drawn into the vortex of vice until they 
have been plunged into utter ruin. This truly is a 
prominent cause of all the failures that occur, and the 
fashionable family that is living up to if not beyond 
their means, invariably find that their expenses, instead 
of lessening, will constantly increase, until they are 
borne along with the current, their property spent, 
and a failure ensues; and if this evil increases at the 
same ratio for half a century to come, as it has done 
for that now past, we may read the doom of our coun- 
try as did King Belshazzar that of the ill-fated city of 
Babylon, written witli the fmger of inspiration on its 
walls. 



APRIL DAYS. 



How beautiful and pleasant are the sunny days of 
April. The long dreary winter has passed and the 
balmy days of Spring have come. The ripphng brooks 
have broken their ice bound fetters, and the snow has 
vanished from hill and valley. The trees and fields are 
beginning to clothe themselves with verdure, and the 
works of nature display beauty. The husbandman 
has dragged his plough from its resting place and com- 
menced turning up the earth .and burying the seed in 
Its bosom. As the months advance the warmth in- 
creases and the days appear more lovely and tlie hazy 
mists that rises in the atmosphere (as the sun gradu- 
ally approaches the west) and slumber in the valleys, 
appears like the smoke of so many bonfires. The voice 
of the robin and blackbird is heard, and the soft sliow- 
ers fall like mists upon the earth. All nature is awake, 
her slumbers are broken. The cattle, released from 
their long confinement, roam joyously over the fields, 
and the bleating of sheep proclaims that the icy bars 
of winter are burst asunder. How visibly we see the 
spring advance as the days glide along, and late in the 
month that welcome guest and forerunner of summer, 
the swallow, returns ; at first here and there only one 
appears glancing by, as if scarcely able to endure the 



Al'RlL DAYS. 431 

cold. But in a few days their number is greatly 
increased, and they sport with much seeming pleasure 
in the warm sunshine. Lovely month, what happi- 
ness it affords us as the genial sun darts its rays upon 
the earth each succeeding day from the first of April 
onward. 



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